


Kinktober 2020 Practice

by TaggWrites



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fisting, Bondage, Boot Worship, Breathplay, Breeding, Cockwarming, Collars, Consensual Somnophilia, Crossdressing, Dacryphilia, F/M, Foot Fetish, Formalwear, Fucking Machines, Human Furniture, Impact Play, Kinktober 2020, Knifeplay, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Multi, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Pegging, Praise Kink, Prostitution, Role Reversal, Sensory Deprivation, Size Difference, Spanking, Stripping, Temperature Play, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 34,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27074614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaggWrites/pseuds/TaggWrites
Summary: A series of kinky works. No fandoms explicitly stated but feel free to see if you can spot the hidden characters!
Kudos: 121





	1. Day 1 knifeplay

Kinktober Day 1 Knifeplay

The blade was onyx, the soft afternoon light gave it a halo and he thought, feverishly, that it was a sign. A reflection of his devotion, a willing sacrifice. Who better to decide what was too much, not enough? Who better to decide if his next breath would come or if it would be time for him to move on than the hand holding the knife.

He took a deep breath and relaxed farther into the bindings, muscles leaving him hanging. A chuckle, deep and warm from the other man.

“Comfortable?” It would have sounded ominous in the fading light, shadows cast over his form and that wicked knife held loosely. He didn’t know what to say, how to respond. He was comfortable in a way, comfortable in the silence between them and the feeling of his skin wrapped around him. He hummed low in his throat, tilting his head instead of answering and catching the shine of hooded blue eyes.

“Yeah.” He finally managed, word soft and easy in his mouth.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

“I’m yours.” Was the only answer he could give. It was the truth and it fell between them like a prayer.

“You want it bad don’t you?” He was amused, toying with him and that was fine, of course it was fine. How could it be anything but fine? He’d been stretched over the bed, wrists and ankles pulled to the edges of the bed, and stayed as the light moved from the bright noon light to this hazy shadowed world where only the two of them existed. He’d been touched, soft and sweet, long strokes and he arched under them, into them. He’d been hurt, the dull throb of impacts and the sharp heat of teeth sinking into his skin and he arched under them as well, pushing into the pain and whining, breath a huffing sound between them at times. But the end was coming, both of their endurance waving thin and even now he could feel the heat of the other man’s length where it pressed into his lower belly, skin between them sticky, tacky with fluid. He’d stopped teasing, pulled out the knife, and waited. It wasn’t long before his eyes had fixated on the blade and he was kind enough to stay, hips pushing into him as he thrashed in the bonds, emotions riding him.

He’d gotten nothing from his outburst of course but the feelings escaped and he settled back into the restraints, letting the sinking sun warm his skin and rested. It would come when the other knew he was ready, not a minute sooner and he had no way to make him, no way to convince him. Tears and cries would fall on deaf ears, threats would get him nothing but an empty room to rage against, begging would give him amusement. He’d done it before, begged for the blade and still did, occasionally, half in love with the looks he received, the lazy insults and degradation that licked fire up his spine until it came out in a half-crazed prayer to the man he’d worship the ground under him for the end of his days. 

It was always the same though, waiting for the first time, the first look of the blade, night-black like the feelings he had before the man came into his life. And he used it, teased him with the blade, running it over his skin, the hilt, the flat of the blade, the point of it with a butterfly strength until he was panting, breath an afterthought. It always came to this, this moment where he went lax, a rag doll in the restraints, sagged against the bed with no other thoughts then the overwhelming desire to be used however the other wished, a canvas for him to work his will. 

He was lax in his bonds, floating in a soft shadow of feeling, his body warm and easy on the bed, the feeling of the litter of bruises and bites as a comfortable refrain. 

“I asked a question.” The voice was back and it drew his attention. He could barely focus, could barely understand the words falling between them like he could see them resting in the space between them.

“I’m yours.” He repeated, feeling dumb with it, words forming sloppy against his laxness.

“Alright.” He said and the knife came down, a flash of something in his blood but it didn’t matter. 

How could it when the feeling hit him? A high he would die chasing, a moment in time where he could feel everything in a tiny section of his skin, every molecule, every moment trapped in his mind. He’d brought it down on his chest, near his heart and he’d thank the man with his last garbled breath if it’s what he wanted, if he desired to carve it out from broken flesh. 

Instead, it pressed in, sharp and clean. He felt the pain, how could he not? It was unique, the way it ached and throbbed, the way it felt sharp enough he could feel it in his throat. The drag as the skin split open, the heat of his blood-curling out, lazy like his breathing, his muscles, the passage of time holding him trapped in an endless cycle of feeling as the blade pulled, moving down. Down. Down. 

It stopped, the blade pushing in just a brief moment before pulling out just above the center of his belly, the cut was shallow, he could feel it, knew it based on the heat, the air, everything. He wasn’t sure how many times they’d done this; when it had really started but it would never be enough. 

The knife came down again and he couldn’t stop the low hiss in response, the thin skin above his hip splitting under the pressure. He hadn’t even felt the other moving down, resting his weight against thighs instead. The line drew under the weight of his cock, across the soft skin of his lower belly, across the other hip. It was shallower this time, blood barely crossing to the outside, heat low and teasing caresses and he tried to thrash, to rage against the tease but he couldn’t find it in him. Couldn’t move from the passivity of his limbs, the weight of his tongue. Couldn’t talk over the whining he couldn’t stop, deep in his throat and as desperate as he felt. 

The knife moved and so he did too. He got close and eyes had to focus to see his face. 

“Once more.” 

“I’m yours.” The words again, he couldn’t make others, hoped he didn’t need to. He hoped the words said how much he needed this, how much he wanted this. Wanted him, the knife, the bruises and bites, the binding. How much he needed the soft hands and soft words.

Instead, he caught a scream in his throat as a hand wrapped around his cock, gripped tight.

“You want it?” The question again, he’d been asked something like that earlier, hadn’t he? It could have been earlier or last week or last month for how well he could tell time’s passing when he was like this. The hand pumped slowly, still squeezing just a shade too close to too much and so far away from enough that he wanted to pull away, beg, something, anything. He wasn’t sure if he wanted this moment to continue on or end here, now. 

“Please.” The word was out between them, sharp with wanting and it triggered the flood gates, the word repeating falling from his mouth like so many raindrops, a hurricane of emotions. 

“Alright.” And this one, oh this one was at his thigh and he screamed from it, how could he not as he felt that perfect blade sliding into skin, deep, deeper, then the sweet drag pulled low and long, the knife sliding shallower every microscopic instance until it crossed over the still sluggish slice on his hip. It went in on the outside of his thigh, the blood rolling down the curve of his leg and he shook with it.

That was all it took, dark heavy eyes looking at him, hand still smoothing against his cock, the rush of the heat of his blood spilling out, the sharp edges of the knife still splitting the skin at his hip, not going anywhere or any deeper, just resting as if it could become a part of his body and would he really mind? That pinprick of pain with him always, just beneath the surface of his skin. 

He broke, shattered under the hands, a willing sacrifice of a capricious god of his own creation because it had been him, those hours, days, weeks, months, years ago who’d dropped to his knees and begged for this. Begged for sharp edges with the onyx knife clasped in his hands with a force he’d never known in his entire apathetic life. 

It took long hours to come back to himself, or it could have been mere minutes, held in some extended thought as warm hands cleaned his skin. The knife would sit on the counter, if he turned his head he could see it. When his hands stopped shaking and his body responded and his mind cleared, he’d take it in his hands, clean it with the care one would take with a priceless artifact, a relic of their most precious time, and put it away until the next time his skin crawled and his life felt like a box trapping him in some cruel caricature instead of this panting, peaceful belonging. 

When he turned his face to those blue eyes, his own eyes sharp with want, the other would take himself in hand, would decide how best to receive his own pleasure and they’d glut themselves on the touch between them, his hands free and his mind sharp and his eyes roaming, cataloging. But for now, he existed, floating, pained, and connected in a way he’d never been before and the onyx of the knife still in his mind.


	2. Day 2 Human Furniture

Day 2 Human Furniture

It was easy to be a footstool. I’d just stay there, arms straight and hips aligned with my knees. My back was arched just enough to create a cradle where something would rest. I could be like this for hours, had to set timers to remind myself to come back to the real world because I couldn’t be a footstool forever even if that’s all I wanted. Thoughtless, an object, I could do it, my body was strong enough to remain for as long as someone could want me to. 

I wanted it but what I really wanted was to be used. I wanted to have a purpose as a footstool preferably but I’d do anything to be really used as an object in some way. I’d never had anyone I’d ever trusted enough to do this with. It was hard but I’d made do with just enjoying it, fantasizing about someone using me when I heard about the club. 

One of my contacts mentioned it offhand as they gave me information about their comings and goings and that’s all it took. I’d given him a large discount for my services in exchange for a number and it was worth it. I’d jumped through all the hoops the club set up to protect itself, paid a rather obscene amount of money for the pleasure of being a patron and if I could get what I’d wanted, I’d consider it the best money I’d ever spent. 

It wasn’t what I’d thought when I started looking into it, it wasn’t a professional situation like I’d imagine. It was made clear to me that no one would be servicing me even if I paid the club three times the amount they wanted. One of the people in the club would choose me if they liked my questionnaire and if the office thought I’d be a good fit for them and we’d meet. We’d decide together if it was something we’d want to try or if I’d go back into the pile. Whether or not it became anything more was up to us, it could be one time or many times and they stressed that a few people chose to leave the club together or only see the other person. After a year, I could look through the profiles myself to see if there was anyone I was interested in. 

It took three days before the office called me and I was willing. They asked what I wanted to know about the person, Denya, before arranging a meeting but I didn’t really care. Instead, I told them I trusted their judgment in the matter and the person on the other side seemed pleased before offering me the meeting time. I quickly confirmed, clearing my schedule for the afternoon appointment and the next day. 

“So, what can I do for you, Sir?” The tone was sultry, warm and teasing and I took in the dull office space. It wasn’t quite what I’d thought of when I walked inside the nondescript building after giving the gate code to the security but, it made sense when I thought about it. The woman behind the desk was closer to what I’d thought about, her white mask a delicate flowering arrangement against her face causing her brown eyes to pop and the scarlet dress left nothing to the imagination, so tight against her skin I wasn’t quite sure how she managed to breathe. 

“I… I have an appointment.” That little stutter surprised me, I wasn’t aware I was nervous until I had to clear my throat to talk. The woman looked me over, her eyes tracing the outline of my suit and I wanted to fidget under her gaze but I forced myself to be still. I’d killed people and felt fewer nerves than at this moment. It was strange, feeling it after so many years of not but I kind of liked the way it made me respond.

“Oh, do you? Maybe we can change that to me. I promise I can be oh so good.” Her voice pulled me from my musing and I looked at her confused. Before I could ask, the door behind her opened and my world tilted suddenly. My knees locked instinctively at the feeling, keeping me up. The man there had wide-set shoulders in a tight black shirt but the rest of him was long and lean, sleek muscles like a runner, and his legs seemed to go on forever in his ripped dark blue jeans. He was wearing black tennis shoes and a thin grey 

“My appointment is here.” His voice was rich, filled with amusement and I almost dropped to my knees in response. It had been a very long time since I’d had a reaction to someone that strongly, had to train it out of myself early on. 

“Oh Denya, I wouldn’t think you were his type.” Denya’s eyes scrolled over my body like he could see how hard I was struggling and I wanted to clear my throat or move or say something but I stood there, waiting for his words.

“Yeah, I’d imagine that is a problem for you. The thinking part. I’ll get Babs to check us in. Come.” He said the last word to me and I’d already moved before I even fully processed the words. I was eager, body jolting forward and I followed, cheeks burning, walking through the door and not looking at the woman at all. 

I walked behind him, trying not to stare, as we moved down the hallway. There were doors on both sides, all shut, and no one in the hallway.

“Wait just a moment.” He knocked on a door and at the muffled voice from inside, opened it, using a key from his pocket. “Hey Babs, that appointment you decided I needed is here.” his voice was rich, amused, and I wanted to say something, do something when he tilted his head my way. I managed a brief wave, feeling small in the space despite the fact that I was both taller and broader than the other man. I didn’t notice before, he seemed so much larger than me in the office but now that I was closer, behind him, I could see how we sized up. 

“Oh good Denya, I know you like to bitch but, do me a favor and get over yourself.” The woman’s voice was pleasant and kind as if she was talking to a student about their grades. It did not fit the words she chose but Denya snorted, smiling fondly.

“As you say, Babs. I’m here aren’t I? Anyways, you need to deal with the front girl. She’s getting testy. Will you check us in?”

“Yes, I was watching the cameras. She won’t be coming back I’m afraid. I was hoping the rumors were false. Enjoy your evening gentlemen.” She turned back to her desk and Denya closed the door.

“Sorry about that. Babs is good at her job and that means multitasking. She’s devious but she means well.” He shrugged and I wanted to say something but I wasn’t sure what. Instead, Denya opened the door to a different room, a bright blue key sliding into the lock this time.

“This is my space here, no one besides Babs has a key here. Take a seat wherever you’d like and we can talk.” Denya didn’t hesitate, putting himself in a comfortable looking sitting chair. The room was separated to look almost like a studio apartment, a chair and couch in grey tones in one section, a table and three chairs in the furthest right and a bed with messy covers and several blankets in different shades of blue on the left. 

I sat on the couch reluctantly, perched towards the end instead of resting like Denya. He didn’t say anything, just looked at me with those eyes and I swallowed reflexively.

“They said it would be your choice to meet with me? Why did.. Babs… make it seem like she set this up?” I didn’t know if there should be an honorific in my words, didn’t know if I could even ask something but the quiet weighed on me.

“Babs pulled your folder for me. She’s… she’s a bit of a busybody and worries that I’m too alone. I haven’t seen anyone at the club for several months now. But I wasn’t made or paid to take the appointment if that’s what you are asking.” He answered the question easily as if it didn’t matter and that made me feel better.

“I’ve never done this before.” The words came before I realized I was even going to say anything and he looked at me sharply.

“Do you know the red light system? Green for good, yellow for slow down or check-in, red for stop?” I nodded, it had been in the packet for the club and I’d read it cover to cover more times than I could count. “Alright, I know it’s unorthodox but, I want to do something. You can use the red light system and if you can’t speak, make a noise two times in a row. It could be anything from smacking your hand or stomping your foot to a whistle. I’ll check in with you though.”

I wanted to question him, had words bubbling in my head, but all I did was nod, passively.

“Come here and take my shoes off.” I shuddered with the force of it, moving quickly, dropping down to the ground at his feet, and pulling the shoes off with as much care as I could give. I sat back on my heels, waiting, shoes placed next to me. “Good, go put them by the door and then come back to me.”

I did it, no hesitation. I went to drop back down to my knees beside his chair but he pulled me in between his legs. I rested with my knees between his feet, pushed back on the heels of my feet, my toes pointed back. He leaned back farther in his seat and looked at me, looked through me and I couldn’t stop the content sigh that came from me.

“I wouldn’t normally do this.” He said easily, head resting in his right hand’s palm. “But I don’t think you’ll be able to focus on the conversation until we give you a few moments.”

“Sorry.” I had to clear my throat to get the word out, his eyes still pinning me.

“I’m not.” He smiled. “We are going to keep it easy alright? No big scene, just you and me. I read your folder, I have some ideas. The only rule I need you to follow is to obey. I want you to talk if you have something to say. I want you to feel good but if I tell you to do something, I expect to be obeyed or I expect a safeword.” 

“Yes, okay….” I paused, thinking.

“Just Denya for now.” 

“Okay, Denya.” 

“Good. Take off your jacket and if you want your shirt and then I want you to get in your favorite position.” I shifted back, took off the jacket, and the button-down shirt leaving me in my undershirt only and put my clothes, folded, on the couch. I moved to my hands and knees and fell into my stance easily. I closed my eyes, taking in the moment, and focused on my breathing. It was faster than when I did this at my own house, alone, and I took a few moments to slow it down. I heard a rustling sound but I didn’t move, didn’t open my eyes. And then, when the moment stretched out farther, I felt the weight on my back.

I felt the heat of skin through the thin fabric of my shirt and I almost lost it. I almost dropped, started shaking, the sensation of it like a knife. One of Denya’s heels pushed into my side some, a warning, and I straightened myself. Should I apologize? Say something? Do something?

“Stop. Be good.” Denya’s voice washed over me and I took another deep breath. He was right, I should just stop, it was fine. I could be good. I relaxed into the position again, hands shoulder length apart, knees under my hips, back arched just ever so. His legs shifted, fell into the cradle of my back and I whined softly at the feeling. It was an instinctive sound, forced out of me and my face flushed at it.

He didn’t say anything, the weight remaining steady on my back and I didn’t disturb the moment. It was good, good to be used like this, and I was used to the position so I drifted easily. It felt different than normal, just somewhat, the weight more of a grounding force than I would have imagined before. The heat through my shirt was a deepening awareness and it felt like it spread through me. It held me, still and steady, and I stayed, content, time passing without me.

My arms didn’t feel tired, my body steady, that easy weight on my back, my purpose, grounding me into it. It didn’t matter how long I was there, I wouldn’t let anything shift me and through me, the precious weight of being used. Time passed without me.

A voice pulled at me, steady and firm. Hands pushed at me and I moved with them, the voice controlling me as much as the hands. I couldn’t quite figure out the words but my body understood, let it happen, and I was fine with that. I was rearranged, settled on my back, arms and legs straight, resting on something firm but still soft. There was no weight and I felt untethered, aloof. I wasn’t sure if I was making noise, thought I could feel it in my throat but it was hard to tell. 

The weight came back, soft pressure on my chest, flat feet and ten toes pushing heat into me. It felt good. They didn’t stay still this time, gentle movements across my chest and I slowly came back to myself. I was on the floor; a blanket under me and another one balled under my head. Denya was sitting in the chair, looking at me with a soft expression. Something in my expression must have meant something to him because he smiled at me.

“Welcome back.” 

“Is…” I cleared my throat before trying again. “Is that what it feels like?” 

Denya shrugged. “Sometimes? For some people? It’s kind of a personal and situational thing.”

“I’ve never felt like this.” I didn’t want to move and it didn’t seem like Denya was rushing me, feet still warm against my chest but still now, just resting.

“It’s powerful to get to experience something like this for the first time. You read the book right?”

“Yes, I saw everything about sub drop and sub frenzy and all the other terms. I suppose experiencing them might give me more of a reference but, I don’t feel like the examples for either of them.”

“No? How are you feeling then?”

“Used,” I said before realizing the word choice. “But not in a bad way!” I hurried to correct myself.

“Okay,” Denya said but he was still smiling and there was a chuckle in his tone that made me settle again.

“I mean, it felt good to.. Experience.. What it’s like to be used as furniture. I feel good.”

“Honestly, still think you might be flying a bit. Do you want to move to the couch?” 

“I think that would work.” I was taking stock of myself as I answered. I didn’t feel empty like I had earlier, more like I felt complete. There was something freeing about the feeling, the way it moved through me but I got up and sat, boneless and easy on the couch, leaving the blankets behind. Denya straightened up some, eyes watching me.

“Still feeling good?” I shrugged.

“Yes, a little chilly but it’s fine.” He tossed me the blanket that had been under my head and I put it over myself. 

“I could hold you if you’d like.” He offered easily and I nodded. It sounded nice, to be held. Denya took my agreement, he sat at the corner of the couch, moving until he was stretched over the couch, leaning against the side and he pushed and pulled me until I was where he wanted me. 

“Feels good,” I said as his arms wrapped around me. It was strangely more intimate than anything I’d ever done before despite the fact that we were, and had been, completely dressed. He hummed against my hair and we stayed there for a while, easy and content.

“How are you feeling now?” 

“Honestly? I’ve probably never felt this good in my life.”

“Anything else?”

“I’d like to talk with you but I can wait if you’d like.”

“What about?”

“About setting up another meeting. Getting to know each other. Talking now that I know what that was like.”

“You know, I think I’d like that.”


	3. Day 3 orgasm denial and fisting

Day 3 orgasm denial and fisting

“Fuck, please, please,” the words fell out like so many spilled coins between them. If he wasn’t restrained he’d be thrashing, unable to take it.

But he was restrained, wrists attached to the top of the headboard to keep him up. His legs had ropes swirled up them, knots placed specifically to keep his legs close, knees bent, and hips back. All the better for the torture he’d been subjected to, was still going through. 

The laughter behind him told him his begging wouldn’t help him but he couldn’t stop it, he was driven to only feelings at this point, logic long gone. Heat filled him, tore through him but it was for nothing, the ring at the base of his cock and pulling his balls from his body made sure he wouldn’t finish. 

“Oh come now, you are almost there.” The voice was amused, soft and warm. 

“How many?” He asked, voice breaking. 

“Four fingers in. You are a greedy thing aren’t you?” He whined, unable to stop the noises as he felt the stretch. They’d been at this for most of the afternoon and feeling the fingers moving so gently, stretching his walls was driving him insane. 

“I’m ready, fuck, please.” It was a hiss more than words. That worked in the way the first didn’t and he groaned deep in his chest at the pull. There was more than enough lubrication, everything slick and wet and he could feel it where it was tacky against his legs. It stretched, pulled, shifted him until it was the only thing he could focus on, the feel of it deep in him.

He breathed as he felt the fingers shift, curling down into a fist and he couldn’t breathe from the screams as the widest part breached him, entered him and he could feel it, the stretch of skin and muscles. It was the feeling of penetration that got him though, the feeling of it being forced, gently, slowly, cruelly, inside of him but in such a way he knew there was no escape from the sensation in his lungs. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” The voice was back again and he felt the other hand teasing over the skin. “Stuffed full right?”

He couldn’t speak, there was no way for him to. But the sounds he was making, those he could feel, the heavy groans and whines pulled from him like a chorus. He’d asked for this, begged for it but now that it was here all he could consider was how he’d live through this, how he’d ever feel anything like this again. 

It shifted inside of him, the fist and he could feel himself rocking back, motions small as there was nothing else he could do, as tied as he was. 

“Please. Please. Please.” It was the only word he had, begging for something but he wasn’t sure what. Did he want to orgasm? Did he want that fist in him to move, pushing in deeper before pulling back, over and over until he could feel it in his chest? Did he want to stay right here, held tight in this moment forever?

The fist moved in him, gentle rocking that he could feel matched his own fevered movements and it broke him, the sensation of it held him. 

He still couldn’t come but he didn’t care, it made it almost sharper, the sensation driving him, every part of his body tense, on a precipice he couldn’t see the other side of. 

“That’s it, there it is.” The voice was soft behind him and he could feel the eyes on him. The fist froze inside of him and he whined, tears burning at his eyes.

“I’m going to start again, don’t worry. This time though, I’m not stopping until it’s done.” The words curled in his chest. His lungs were tight from it, threat registering in his mind but he couldn’t think, his head felt full of stuffing. What parts of him even existed outside of this moment, this burning in his belly?

“Please.” It fell like a broken prayer, repeated on his tongue as he felt the other hand move between his legs and tugged on the rings. His word broke off, caught fire between them at the sensation and he had nothing left but the sounds, guttural and low, high and longing. 

He was lost to the sensations, overwhelmed as the movement inside of him started again and this time he couldn’t keep pace. Not with his bonds or with the hand slowly clicking the openings on all of the rings his body had been decorated with. He was burning with it, sighs and cries all he could do. 

It felt like hours but he knew it was only a few heartbeats that he was held in that moment before the last two rings were removed and a silken hand rand over the length of him in three long strokes before he tipped over, falling into the heat of the moment.

He felt the hands working over his body, both clean as they dragged a clean cloth over him. He felt, distantly, hands unwrapping the ropes and unfastening his wrists. Hands caught his body, turned him over, and rested him against the bed. They stroked and rubbed feeling back into his wrists and his legs as he laid there. He was floating, moving back to consciousness slowly.

“Was it what you wanted?” 

“Everything.” His voice was still a whisper of a sound, still distant but how could he not have the words for this moment?


	4. Day 4 breathplay

Day 4 breathplay

“You want me to do what?” I wasn’t trying to judge, I really wasn’t. I know it sounds like it but, well, I wasn’t prepared for that. I don’t know who could have been prepared for a statement like that though.  
“I… never mind.” He looked away from me, cheeks still colored high with emotions. 

“Hey! You can’t spring something like that on me and not give me a minute.” My arms flailed out, I was unable to talk to him like a normal person because of course, I’d be the disaster of a person. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Damn, that tiny voice always got me. He was adorable, sweet and kind and I was barely respectable in comparison. He was like a lily in the valley, something precious but had the fortitude to survive the coldest winters. Delicate in bloom with steel to survive the long months between.

“It's just, you have to give me a minute,” I said again, reaching out to him. He let me pull him against me, snuggled into my side and his hands dropped to my thigh, tracing patterns over my jeans. 

“Okay,” I said after a few moments. He tensed at my words some but I held on tighter. “Tell me again.”

“I… well… I want… no.. I need you to choke me.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said. Why?” My tone was smoother than his, no stuttering pauses but I could not be as calm as he was. There was no way. He just confessed, twice, to wanting me to do that to him. 

“It’s proof.”

“Proof of what?” My voice was sharper than I’d intended, disbelief coloring my tone.

“Proof that I’ll obey. Proof I’m yours. I don’t know, it just seems like something else that should belong to you. You have my heart, every part of me, why not the air in my lungs too?” He tilted his head, looking up at me. 

“You don’t have to, I don’t mind, I shouldn’t have brought it…” My hand lifted and he stopped backtracking.

“It’s okay.” I wouldn’t leave him like that, that wasn’t who I am. “I don’t ever mind you asking for something. Can I do some research first? Maybe we can talk about it again in a week?” He nodded, still faced away from me like he’d been since the conversation really started. 

It was easy to hold him though until he could look at me again and his words came out easy between us. 

After I left him, I dove into research. I read everything I could, the dangers, how to do it as safely as I could. I researched stories and people, talked to friends I’d made in the community until I felt somewhat better about it. It was dangerous, of course it was, but I thought I could try it. For him, I thought I could do anything. 

“You remember your safe words? And the tapping?” 

“I do.” He was quiet, having problems meeting my eyes but his voice was steady. He really did want this. 

I pushed him down on the floor, wanted to start there so I wouldn’t be working against the softness of the bed. I straddled his hips. We’d stripped down first, it was easier for us to come together naked, made it easier to talk in the space between our bodies. 

My hand curled around the column of skin. I didn’t put any pressure into it, wouldn’t like this, just felt it, let him feel me. He hummed under me, eyes fluttering shut. I pressed in a little with my fingers thumb and forefinger pushing in like a vice and he whined, eyes shooting open. He looked at me, pupils already blown wide open and I smiled.

My other hand drifted up, covered his mouth and I felt the rumble of his sounds against my skin. I held him there, fingers tightening some on the sides of his throat and my hand covering his mouth.

“You’ll do anything I want you to, won’t you?” The words were teasing, soft and true in reverse. This proved to me that I really would do anything for him. 

His eyes pleaded with me but he didn’t move.

“You’d stop your own heart from beating if I told you to.” It was a fact, one I wasn’t comfortable with despite my own devotion. 

“Take a deep breath and hold it.” He did it, sucking in as much as he could with my hand still pressed firmly against his mouth, his neck still encircled. I waited, just a few seconds, staring down at him. I’d know when he would breathe again, would feel it against my hand but I wanted to wait, I wanted to see how long he would go. He didn’t struggle when I moved my hand from his neck and pressed his nostrils shut. He didn’t move as I held him like that, eyes locked on his face. He just stayed, let me take away his option for air. 

I don’t know what caused me to escalate, I hadn’t planned on it, wanted to just let him control how far we went but there was something accepting in his eyes and I hated it. The idea that he was accepting how far I would go even if it wasn’t what he wanted. What he told me he needed. 

I’d been counting seconds instinctively, the metronome I started before this giving me a comfortable background. After a minute, I moved my hand from his nose but he didn’t exhale and inhale like I’d thought he would. He just stayed, eyes on me. I gave it another fifteen seconds, the metronome suddenly louder, an echo and he still didn’t breathe. One minute nineteen seconds. The metronome kept going and he still didn’t breathe. 

“Take a breath.” At one minute thirty seconds I gave up waiting for him and he opened his mouth under my hand. I felt the panting as he sucked in air. I pulled my hand back to see him, eyes dazed.

“Fuck.” I said when he slowed his breathing down again. I crashed into him, kissing him like everything depended on this one moment. I watched him for a moment when I broke off the kiss.

“Again?” 

“Please.” His voice cracked, husky in his throat and I wrapped my hand back around his throat, squeezing with the utmost care.

“Yeah. Again.”


	5. Day 5 boot worship

Day 5 boot worship

The office door opened with a gentle reverence. She turned from her work, eyes leaving the last message she’d received, prepared to throw out whoever dared to disturb her.

“What the absolute fuck do you…. Cyran!” She stood up, dress ruffling around her, and walked around the large black wood desk that took up most of the space. Standing at the door was a large man, built for fighting. When he smiled, he shifted almost instantly from intimidating to adoring.

“You told me to come to you as soon as I came in, Madalene.” She leaned against her desk looking the man over with a long lingering gaze. She crossed her arms and he tilted his face down.

“Shut the door.” He entered the space and pushed the door behind him gently closed. “I should have known it was you, everyone else has been opening my door like its job is to introduce them.” She caught his little grin. “Did you find anything?”

“Not as much as I’d like. The other clan does not seem like a threat. I think they mean it, they want to join us. I didn’t see anything that gave me a reason to doubt them.”

“They offered a lot and it seems they mean it.” She tapped a finger against lips stained blood red and he watched as the pursed behind the finger. 

“From as well as I can see, I think they do.” He shrugged.

“What do you think about them?”

“Shilo is alpha, he seems like a strong leader. I don’t know if he’d submit to me, I didn’t try.”

“Are you dominant over him?” She asked, her voice teasing and he looked at her, expression flat.

“I’d love to see him try anything.” he huffed at her before continuing. “Rasso is beta, he and Erick have hit it off well. I’m concerned about how much trouble they will be but I’m sure they will amuse you. Deborah is nervous but she isn’t hiding anything. I think she’s more concerned we’ll force her to mate. Sabrina and her pup don’t seem to have any doubts, I think if we leave them, Ralf will be asking for permission to court her. They’ve been dancing around each other all week.” he blew air between his lips. “Errol is the last, he seems afraid of Simon but I don’t see a problem arising. Simon isn’t one to loose the hunt.” 

“The clan was small, I think they’d be a good addition. Two more women, the pup, and the three men would help us with the harvest.” 

“And you aren’t worried about Shilo?”

“I’ll put him in the dirt if he did.” She smiled at his cocky expression.

“That sure of yourself?”

“That sure of you Mads. My strength comes from our Queen and there’s not a wolf around that could take you on.” She grinned, pointed teeth bared in a facsimile of a smile.

“Bring me Shilo then. I’ll deal with this before the moon.” He nodded, bowing deeply before leaving.

She turned to her desk, sighing at the missive before cleaning up the papers she’d been working on. She tucked them into her laptop, closing the screen on the long side of her desk before hopping up on the short side, eyes on the door. 

The door opened again after only a handful of moments. 

“You wanted to see me?” The other alpha asked as he came in.

“Shut the door Cyran.” She was impressed the other wolf didn’t turn to the door as Cyran came in behind him, close enough to be a serious threat and trapped him in here with the two wolves. They could kill him and no one around could help him and he stood as if they were discussing lunch options.

“I’ve considered your proposal.” She finally said, watching the careful movements of the other man. He was slightly thinner than Cyran, just enough to be noticeable but not to the point it would give either an advantage in a fight. 

He didn’t wait for her next words, dropped right there as if Cyran had kicked him in his knees. Face down, he went into the deep blue of her carpet, hands palm up to her as he kneeled.

“Please, we can’t survive without your aid. Please take us into your clan.”

“You are an alpha.” She said finally, looking at him. He wasn’t the first wolf to drop like this in front of her but she didn’t expect a foreign alpha to do it. Her own maybe, but not a different one.

“Only if you will it.” His tone was submissive, his posture turning her feelings. She couldn’t help her instincts, responding to a wolf in trouble, in distress. She was a Pack Queen, the well being of her wolves and the strength of her clan depended on her.

“You’d submit to my alpha without challenge?” That was unusual, normally other alpha wolves would have to fight though she wasn’t worried about Cyran, Shilo had no chance.

“Your Majesty, I’d do anything you asked me to for my clan to join yours while thanking you for it.” He didn’t look at her, didn’t move from his position but she could smell him. He wasn’t lying.

“Look at me.” He moved, shifted back and rested on the flat of his feet, knees spread open to keep him lower to the ground. His grey eyes locked on hers, no hesitation. “Why?”

“The pup needs a safe space to grow. Sabrina would be happy here. Deborah could feel safe here, she was turned by force by another clan. Errol too, he’s had a hard time. Rasso is smiling again and we’ve only been here a week. Please don’t turn us out. We are too small to live safely and there isn’t a Queen like you in any of the clans near here.”

“Submit then, and we'll bring your wolves into the clan at the full moon.” She didn’t look at Cyran, didn’t have to. Shilo moved carefully, slowly as if she’d change her mind, shuffling across the floor. 

“Your will is mine, your path is mine, my life is yours.” The words were spoken in a low tone, reverent and she could feel the call in her blood.

“I accept. Your life is mine, your wolf is mine, my clan is yours.” It settled over them, like a blanket and she expected him to stand before taking his leave. But he didn’t move, instead staying at her feet, eyes on the ground. She looked at Cyran who watched the other wolf with hooded eyes.

“You don’t know about this part, Mads. I should have warned you but I was worried you might fight it.” 

“I’ve taken the oath of other wolves before.”

“Not another alpha.” And she blushed, face flushing as the words settled over them.

“Like… like that? But… I didn’t think.. He’s not an alpha anymore?” Her words were clumsy and she felt young in a way she hadn’t since she came to the clan.

“Your clan is big enough for two alphas. He’s a second.” His voice was amused as he pulled off his shirt. She loved looking at him, that strong body, and the tattoo of the full moon inked so firmly on his chest.

“What do I do?” 

“Let us serve you Queen. Let us take care of you, as your alphas should.” He smiled at her before dropping down next to Shilo. Shilo moved at that, pulled his own shirt off a lot faster before moving to allow more room for Cyran. They both took one of her boots in their hands, moving together as if they were the same person or sharing their minds. 

She watched, breath starting to hitch as they started trailing kisses up from the point of her shoe. She couldn’t really feel it, the thick leather too dense for that but the look of it, these two men on their knees for her. That affected her, she thought it might be part of the allure for them, how worked up she was getting but it seemed like they enjoyed it too. Cyran had tried to explain it to her, the way it felt for him before shrugging it off. 

“I guess it’s just an alpha thing.” He finally said with a smile. She didn’t know if that was true, had never met another alpha until now. But now she thinks he’d been right. Now, watching Shilo and Cyran kiss and lick their way up, so achingly slowly as if they’d never get enough, she wondered what else she’d find were just alpha things.


	6. Day 6 Sensory deprivation and wax play

Day 6 Sensory deprivation and wax play

There was something so comfortable in the routine of it, the ease they fell into the motions. First was always the earplugs. He did them himself. Then his arms were wrapped from his shoulders to his hands and fastened to the bed. The candles burning in the room filled his sense of smell with lavender, oversaturated in the room. His eyes were the last, he got to watch as the candles were lit.

After that, the blindfold took away his sight and he floated there with only a soft bed at his back and the fabric and rope around his arms. He never knew how long this part lasted, could never tell in the dullness the world took on. His skin prickled, every shift of air, of the bed, against his skin was the only real sensation he had. He knew he wasn’t alone, wouldn’t be left alone like this but he couldn’t tell how or when the touch would fall. 

It always would though, after some unknown time, the first touch would land on his skin. Long fingers would dance over his skin and tease all of his sensitive spots. He’d be sent higher and higher on the sensation and then when he didn’t think he could handle it anymore, the first drop of wax would fall. It wasn’t the lavender candles, no. They had picked these candles out together, specifically for this. The art he’d find splattered over his chest after always made him feel so many things, many of them causing his world to shake and shiver. Each drop was always methodical, sometimes they left behind swirling eddies of colors, and sometimes it was pictures of flowers or trees designed on his skin. When he peeled it off after, the red of his skin would hold the image for a few hours at most. Sometimes he wished he’d be marked by it for longer, the burn staying with him. 

His skin felt tight when the wax was following, some pressure in him making him feel small and contained, trapped in every bead of wax that fell. It normally sent him to whines and words he could feel in his chest, could feel the vibrations of but never really knew what was falling out.

It was never long he stayed like that, the need for pleasure building in him. No, when it crested in him, the desire surrounding him, he wasn’t teased. Hands fell on him, took him higher and higher until he had no choice but to let it all fall down. 

He’d come to slowly, body aching in all the best ways. It would go in reverse. His earplugs removed first. His arms unwrapped and rubbed feeling back into. The candles were blown out. His blindfold removed. They’d lay together, basking in the moment before he got up to clean the art from his chest. He’d find his clothes and dress, not making eye contact. He always felt too raw then, the moment after. 

He’d leave, every time, with nothing more than a halfhearted wave. He always swore that would be the last time. The last moment he’d subject himself to his crutch. The last time he’d hide behind it. He’d go home, shower, wash the time from his skin until all of it matched the red of his chest. He’d eat dinner, drink some water. He’d go to bed in a home that seemed almost as quiet as when the earplugs were in. He’d lay in his bed, close his eyes, and know that in this darkness, there was no one looking at him. There was no touch coming, just his sheets and his blankets and his pillow. Just the darkness and familiarity of a routine that made him want to scream and never stop. 

He’d go a few days, a week, maybe two with the crushing silence around him. He’d try to fill it with friends, with lovers, with television that sounded too fake and music that felt too real. He’d work his job and do the things he was supposed to like a checklist that never ended.

And before too long, he would send a text and get a response. He’d go back to that place, talk to someone who’s eyes burned with fire, with excitement. He’d sit and drink some coffee or water and eat the small treat that was always there and it wouldn’t taste like ash. He’d sit in those bright colors, in a house that was saturated in a way everything else was dull. It hurt, the way it would go, the pretend too sharp edge of the loneliness he knew would follow him home. He’d consider, again, about asking to stay. He wouldn’t, the words choking him from the inside out, a strangle on his lungs. 

Instead, he’d take the plugs, put them in, and it would start again. It was a clockwork routine and he was too much a creature of habit to break it.


	7. Day 7  breeding

Day 7 breeding

He was so much bigger than she’d imagined. Her father had promised it was a good match and he was a good man so she believed him. She knew he wouldn’t sell her off for any reason but there would always be fear there. As her soon to be husband, Estav could do whatever he wanted to her. And he was an accomplished warrior from what the few rumors she trusted said. 

She was nineteen, her father had insisted that in the terms, to give her time he’d said. They’d written letters some, her and Estav, and he was well-spoken from what she could tell. Her mom had taken her aside a few times, explained more than most mothers she was sure about what her wedding night would be.

None of that stopped the nerves though, they’d tingled in the back of her head while they’d married, the ceremony lovely. They’d started when his men showed up to her father’s home to help escort them. Now, they were blazing after her mother had brought her to her new bedroom door, given her a kiss, and left her with her maid. Her maid had helped her from her wedding finery and she’d washed her body before shrugging into a thin shift. Her maid left her too, left her alone in the empty room with images of his big frame and how much damage he could do to her and the sick feeling dogging her. 

There was a brief rap on the door, the interior door that led to her husband’s chambers, that echoed through the small room and he entered, “Aislyn.”

“My lord.” She responded, tilting her head in greeting. She considered rising but wasn’t sure her legs would hold her. Besides, this is where all of this ended, wasn’t it? He’d must have had his own manservant help him in his chambers though she hadn’t heard anything. He’d shed the surcoat and his finery, coming to her in his undershirt and pants. He’d even left his boots, the bare feet an intimate addition. 

“My lady.” His voice was warm, teasing as it had been at the dinner they’d just had. 

“Would you have me call you Estav then?” She couldn’t stop the challenge and she was concerned he would be angry with her.

“I would.” It was an easy answer and she looked up again, his deep brown eyes fixed on her. “We’ve not known each other for long and I feel I know more of you than you of me but you are my wife and it was taught to me by my parents that it was unbecoming to treat your wife with anything less than respect.”

“You are one of few then.” It was more bitter than she’d thought, the words. Her father loved her, she knew he did, but he’d told her how important this marriage was. He’d told her she couldn’t have a different fate, to marry for love. She was a woman, this was her lot in their world. And bearing a male heir for him? She would secure her family for a long while. 

“I would ask if you want this but I feel it would not be a kindness. And as much as I’d offer to leave, that is also not a kindness I can give.” He sounded sincere and she considered it, thought bouncing in her head. If they’d met at one of the few feasts her parents had let her attend and they’d fallen in love over the first glance at their host’s table. Maybe he’d have been the host. Maybe the next morning after staring at each other in the light of the dancing candle flame, they’d have gone for a walk in his gardens. They would be magnificent, she was sure. He would have written her sonnets, drawn sketches for her favor. She would have stitched intricate kerchiefs for him. Maybe she would have gotten daring, taking one of his shirts and stitching delicate designs, each tiny piece of thread holding her desire for him, her hopes for him. Women’s magics, small things that would make his days easier. 

“No, I am not afraid of my duty.” Her words destroyed the delicate, rosy ideas in her head. 

“No?” He stepped closer, coming towards her bed. She stood, wanting to meet this on her feet. 

“No.” Her voice didn’t shake and his mouth came down to hers. The breath between them was warm and sweet, his face tilted down towards her.

“Good.” Was all he said, a soft caress of a word as his lips met hers. He was as gentle as he’d been in front of the others, wrapping his strong arms like bands around her. She felt somewhat like a bird, caged in his embrace but it wasn’t stifling, wasn’t the crippling of pin feathers being plucked. It was the ease of safety. 

His mouth moved over her lips and she tried to match him, hesitation in her movements. His hands moved across her back, long strokes from her shoulder to just above the small of her back. Her hands came up, touched the firm chest of him with shaking fingers and he still didn’t stop the assault on her mouth. 

“I would lie if I said I didn’t desire you, Aislyn.” She didn’t have a chance to answer, his mouth falling to the crux of her neck as he shifted aside the fabric he found there. “All I could think was this moment, much to my embarrassment at the table.” He continued up her neck, heat of his tongue, his lips, the graze of his teeth against the soft skin he found. 

There were no words she could give back, his hands stroking their way over her sides, his mouth driving her to distraction. He started pulling the fabric up at her hips, she felt it gather at her sides and could feel the cool air against her lower legs. 

“I will take care of you, make sure you enjoy every moment of this.” He didn’t pause, pulled the shift off the rest of the way without giving her time to adjust. She stood, naked, and his eyes roamed over her. He didn’t let her adjust, just yanked his own top off before pushing her against the bed. Her arms moved out, catching her weight and he moved behind her, pulling her hips back. She was bent over the bed, head still swimming from the sensation, the beat of panic still riding her, the words. She didn’t know when he moved again but she couldn’t stop the sharp gasp as his tongue licked at the apex of her thighs. It was a singular sensation, the feeling of his tongue against her heat.

“I wonder if this taste will change when you are round with my child. I’ll have to spend the next months considering it.” She couldn’t breathe from the feeling, sharp and so good and his words sent fire through her. She could almost imagine it, her belly heavy and hanging as she stayed like this, the weight of him all around her. She felt herself moan, the echo of vibration. He didn’t stop, kept pushing his tongue there, licking her core like his favorite treat.

He pulled back some and a finger moved over her sex before plunging inside of her. Once, twice it penetrated her before another joined.

“I’m going to get you ready now. You are so wet already, dripping almost. Do you like the idea of being round with my child? Of bearing my heir? This whole kingdom will belong to the life you carry in your womb, the life I put into you. My consort.” The words made her fuzzy, the sweet sensation of three fingers pushing in and out of her leaving her a panting mess. 

He pulled the fingers from her and she heard the rustle of the strings on his pants, fabric fluttering down and kicked aside. She didn’t try to move, wasn’t sure she could as his length rubbed against the skin of her thighs. He teased her, himself, some as he rubbed against her but when she thought he’d never get inside of her, he moved. 

It was like getting impaled, she thought hysterically. It hurt, a deep stretching feeling that was too sharp to be anything but pain. He didn’t continue though, holding himself still and deep inside of her, letting her get used to the length of him. His hands drifted to her chest, fingers dancing over the skin there, pulling gently at the bud of her nipples. 

“This will change too.” He said as he palmed her breasts. “They'll be engorged with milk. My seed will mark your body as mine in so many ways.” The words shouldn’t arouse her more but they did, pangs of desire hitting her as those fingers kept her attention away from the tightness of her core. But the desire had a way of easing that tightness and he started up small movements, sending the pain away. It was washed out of her mind by a tidal wave of desire as his hands shifted down again. One held her hip, pulled her against him but the other pressed into the nub above where his manhood filled her. 

He rubbed the spot as he pounded into her, not slowing down any as words dripped from his lips. He told her how much he desired her, how good she’d look full with a child by him. He talked about spilling himself deep in her womb. And she went lust drunk from it, begging for it when she could catch enough air. 

It couldn’t last though, the feelings too much and when they finally tipped over, she could feel him inside of her, pulsing deeply. If she was fertile, if it was time, there was no way it wouldn’t take. 

He was gentle with her when he finally pulled out. He cleaned the skin at her thighs with a rag, rubbing softly before he carried her through the door to his own room. He pulled the shift back over her head, dressing her like a doll before putting her on his bed. She didn’t see him but she knew he put something on before getting in with her, pulling her tight against him. 

“You’ll be happy here Aislyn. Just like my mother was with my father. I’ll make sure of it. It will be you, me, and our children.”


	8. Day 8 Dacryphilia

Day 8 Dacryphilia

It always started off slow. Slowly and easily, soft kisses, warm caresses. It was gentle and clothes were pulled off teasingly by hands, with glances and strokes, with kisses so light and airy. It was a faint refrain of action before the beat of the action took over. It was a dance that both would win but the look of it was so much more intense.  
It always came to pass that one would push the other into the bed, not as gently, not as carefully and they’d lay back into it, stretching long and lean over the nest of blankets and sheets. Pillows would be shoved to the side and hands would run over limbs, chests, stroking heat that would only escalate and settle under the skin. 

It always continued in some melody only they could hear, one set of hands turning rougher, pulling and pushing. One set of hands would reach up and rend at the headboard or would fist sheets, pulling them from the corners of the bed to cradle them more in a mess of their creation. 

It always pushed at the edges, fingers pushing in and waves of pleasure cresting, cresting, never receding as clever hands overstimulated skin already overwhelmed. It took practice, long afternoon settings where they’d lay locked with each other, turned in to the other as the world left them by. It was long conversations spoken in hushed refrain and tremulous care. 

It always crested like this, not with the finished heat of orgasm, no, it always crested with the heat of tears rolling across skin. It turned the air between them volcanic, ash coating lungs and throats as their moans turned into something deeper, more primal. One voice locked in an unending swear of words and pleas and the other a rolling hiss of pleasure, words spoken of actions taken and left undone. 

It wasn’t always this good, they’d had plenty of times they weren’t sure this was right or what they wanted. They had times where they didn’t come together just right. They’d had times with other partners in the past as well. But it was hard, being in this moment, where the world was right, to care about the other times.

It was always a high, this moment, and they sought it out in any way they could. After all, what were the tears but a fantasy held in a moment of time? One of them walked away with release, the empty hollow lick of space held between shoulders that bore too much weight but never enough to ground them. One walked away with a pleasure realized, the taste of salt and exhaustion in a comfortable note in the background. It was hard to find that kind of peace but in these moments, it was always worth it.


	9. Day 9 pegging

“I mean. Yes. I want to try this.” His voice didn’t shake and for that, he was grateful even if he wasn’t quite sure how it didn’t shake considering the disconcerting shifting under his feet. He was used to the feeling, his line of work made the feeling an afterthought, something to be acknowledged and then pushed to the side but hearing his voice come out with no tell-tell marker always struck him as dishonest. 

“Okay, if you are sure?” She was more hesitant and more willing to show it. He loved that about her, that vulnerability that she left in every moment and he wanted to drown in it. It wasn’t meant for people like him, had never been offered to him before, but she never looked at him like a tool. 

She would have never asked this from him, she probably didn’t even know that he knew she wanted it. He’d seen her out with a friend while he was on patrol, a freak accident that had never happened before. She seemed so happy, their laughter raucous and bright and he didn’t have the self-control to give her privacy. Instead, he pushed out and listened. The conversation wasn’t quite what he would have expected though, he really should have. They were talking about sex, about pegging in particular, and the words struck him.

“So how many times have you pegged him? I mean, as many times as you’ve gushed about your very detailed fantasies, you have to give me something. Is he as hot on his knees as you thought he would be?” 

“I haven’t actually talked to him about that.”

“Really? After all those long conversations about that ass and you aren’t even going to try?”   
“I don’t know. That was before I knew him, the real him. He’s so gentle, I think he’d have a stroke if I told him about all of that stuff we used to get up to. I mean, I didn’t lie about how many partners I’ve had or anything like that, just no sexy details you know?”

“No details about how you were like one of the best dominants in the area?”

“No.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Honestly? Probably not. Look, we all have joked about my gigantic crush on him but it’s not hero worship. I talked to him, became his friend before we started all of this and he’s so much more than the guy I thought he was. I just didn’t want to scare him off and then it turned sexual and I don’t even know what we are and like, how do I tell him now? What if he doesn’t like it, that part of me? I want to be with him, however we are together, but the sex is hard. It’s good, hell, it’s really good but, there’s that part of me that keeps waiting for the edge. Can I be happy in a relationship without it? I’ve never really tried before.”

“You’ve caught a serious case of the feels haven’t you? And you don’t know where you and he stand either.”

“Yeah. We hang out, we have sex but are we dating? Are we just fucking around? I have no idea what he thinks and I don’t want to push him too far. He’s so much more than I could have ever imagined. And he’s so good.”

“You are going to have to talk to him.”

He turned his attention away, ashamed at what he’d heard. She was so important to him and he’d never told her. The idea that she wasn’t satisfied either buried into his head, constantly a thought in the background. He’d lie to anyone and say that was the only thought, that there wasn’t a part of him that wondered what it might be like to have her full attention on him, to just be hot on his knees like her friend had said. He wouldn’t admit to considering how nice it would be to just be, let someone else take care of him. The idea of it was hidden deep under his mask, shoved as deep as his name, a whisper of nothingness in his mind. 

He found himself browsing the internet, looking up things he’d never considered and staring with unblinking eyes at the images and videos on his screen. He made a purchase without letting himself stop and think. When it came in, she’d brought it in from his mail and he almost told her to open it. Instead, he’d taken it and shoved it in his closet, telling himself he’d think about it later. 

It took him two weeks to go back to it, pull it out and open it. He looked at it, the harness and the length of the dildo. The large bottle of lube meant for this kind of act. And instead of putting it away, shoving it back in his closet, he put it on the bed. When she came over, after dinner and relaxing, he brought her to his bedroom. She noticed it immediately and looked at him.  
“Is this?” She couldn’t finish, the shape of the words still on her mouth when he nodded. 

“I want it.” 

She paused, looked a little shocked before taking a breath. “Okay, what is it?” 

She was looking at him with that warm in her eyes that he wanted to burn in, singe every part of himself against it. He dropped to his knees, instinct overriding everything. 

“Fuck.” Her word was quiet, barely formed and the heat in her eyes shifted to an inferno. 

“Please.” The word was embarrassing but it pushed out, startling him. 

“Okay. Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Tell me you have a safe word? Some knowledge of this?”

“Yeah, I’ve read some. I … prepared some too. Key is my safe word.”

“Stand up and take off your clothes.” He was moving before he realized, stripping at a quick speed. She watched him, eyes wide but her breathing wasn’t as even. He could almost feel the vibration of her heartbeat. He dropped back to his knees in front of her when he was done.

“Good.” 

That word, that one word burned into him, electrifying his spine. He wasn’t fully hard but as he watched her strip out of her own clothes, he settled more into it, the arousal making itself comfortable in his belly.

She stood over him, naked and comfortable. He tipped forward some and his head rested against her hips. Her hands stroked through his ashy hair. She pulled some and he followed the unspoken order as he let her arrange him bent over his own bed. She put him resting on his elbows, back arched down and legs spread. He didn’t think about it, wouldn’t consider pushing against it after the embarrassment of how quickly she’d gotten into his head without even trying. 

He wouldn’t say anything because even now her long strokes over his skin was exciting him, dragging him into a floating sensation as she took care of him. He hissed through clenched teeth as her wandering hands drifted over his ass and one of them wrapped around his length hanging between his legs. 

Her other hand’s long fingers pushed against his rim lightly, testing, and he was glad he’d done this before, by himself. It hadn’t really given him anything but he didn’t hate it and was willing to do this, would do just about anything, to keep her with him. He wasn’t sure how to confess that this was everything to him so all he could do was make sure she was as happy as he could give.

He heard the click of the lube but didn’t look. He sighed, a little uncomfortable when the cool liquid dripped over him, sliding slickly against soft skin and down over his balls. Her fingers came back, coated in the viscous liquid, and her other hand wrapped around him again. They teased him until he was mad with it, rocking back and forward, breath a panting mess. He whined, trying to entice her but she continued the tease until he was wild with it, heat burning up inside of him.

“Please.” It broke out of him, cresting into him, and the word was between them again. She slipped a finger inside of him, pushing in evenly. How had he not thought it was hot? By himself it was something he’d done, not really knowing where the pleasure was but here, now, under her hand, all he could feel was a little burn and a rush of excitement. 

He was lost in the feeling, moans and little gasps escaping him as one finger became two and then three, stretching and pulling him to pieces as her other hand kept time on his cock, too light to push him over the edge but driving him insane. 

“Fuck! Please. Please, I need you to fuck me.” The words poured between them, slurred on his lust drunk tongue and she pulled away. He went to move before freezing. Was she pulling away because he’d been bad? He’d been needy, bossy and then he tried to move from where she’d put him. He doubted that was good behavior. 

“Wait for me, pretty thing, I’ll be right back.” he heard a rustling sound and he felt heat flair in his cheeks as he realized what she was doing. He whined, deep in his throat. as he heard the lube click open again. He moved at that, turned and dropped to his knees in front of her, her eyes wide with how fast he moved.

“Please, I gotta suck you, I need to. Please. I know I’m bad and I don’t deserve it but fuck, please. Let me choke on it. Please.” His mouth moved faster than his mind, filth pouring out but she let out a moan before tangling her fingers in his hair. 

“You’re a good boy and I’ll show you what this cock can do before I fuck your ass.” She was cocky and controlled in a way he hadn’t seen before now. She pushed the cock closer and he lunged forward, wrapping his mouth around the silicone cock. He pulled against her hands in his hair, a brief flash of pain making it sweeter as the cock pushed into his mouth.

She yanked his hair back roughly, pulling his mouth off the head of the cock.

“You wait, slut.” Her words made him dizzy, floor lurching like he was high in the sky where the air got thin. 

“Fuck, please. Please, I wanna be your slut. Only yours.” 

She didn’t put the dildo in his mouth instead, she rubbed the head of it over his face, leaving slick traces of his spit and the lube from her fingers over his skin. When he settled into the feeling, she pried his mouth open by shoving three of her fingers against his lips. He sucked on the digits, loose moan around them.

“That’s what you needed isn’t it?” He couldn’t say anything, the fingers pressing into his tongue as she forced his mouth to fall open. “Or something bigger? You want something hitting the back of your throat? You said you wanted to choke on it.”

The other hand wrapped around the silicone and the moan he made was obscene as she pulled her fingers out and pushed the dildo in. She went slowly but steadily, not stopping until his nose was touching the bone of her pubic region. He couldn’t breathe but he didn’t pull away, let her sit there, weight on his tongue and feeling in his throat for as long as she wanted. She pulled away some and he huffed too shallow breaths before she pushed back in. She used the fingers tangled in his hair to push and pull him and her eyes bore into him. He was going wild from it, caught up in the sensation, whining and moaning as best as he could around the cock at his throat.

She pulled out finally, pushed him back to his feet and he put himself back in his position as he heard her slick the cock with lube.

“Such a dirty little slut you are.” Her words had him shivering but when he felt the slide of her inside of him, it was over for him. He couldn’t respond, couldn’t make words, could barely see around the feeling. When she settled in him finally, her hips pressed ever so against his hips, he moaned, loud and lewd.

“Yeah, that’s what good sluts get.” Her words were growled, sharp sounds where she was normally so much more relaxed and it drove him a little crazy to think he was responsible.

All thought drove out of his head when she started thrusting, pushing into him with a sharp tilt of his hips until he was almost screaming from it. He hadn’t found his prostrate when he was doing this before but now, that fake cock being pistoned in and out of him by strong hips, he could feel it, the bundle of nerves lighting up with an almost painful situation. That didn’t stop it though, his whines and whimpers, even his slight rocking. 

“That what you want?” She asked him and he thought it was kind of a dumb question absently. He was a moaning mess, probably drooling on himself and he was absolutely sure his cock had never been harder in his like.

“Fuck, please, yes.” Was what came out instead of any of his other thoughts. She didn’t respond, instead thrusts continuing at the same speed. He felt his orgasm coming and his broken over words let her know he was close.

She didn’t slow down though, instead choosing to push hard, speed increasing. And he felt it breaking him, felt her pushing him closer and closer to that ledge without even a hand on him. He was moaning brokenly, half full of prayers for her and the other half of swear words, blasphemies against his position as she continued pistoning in and out of him. 

“I’m coming!” The words tore out of him but she didn’t slow down instead, she wrapped one hand around his spasming cock and pumped into him, fucking him through the orgasm until he was nonsensical in the aftermath. 

“We are absolutely doing that again.” He said when his world stopped spinning. She laughed, still in him and the movement edged the dildo a little deeper in him and he whined from it.


	10. Day 10 Somnophilia

Day 10 Somnophilia

He loved watching her sleep. She would curl up on her side and he’d wrap himself around her, burying his head into her hair. Sometimes they would talk and she’d drift off in the middle of a conversation. Sometimes she’d wrap around him instead, rubbing at his back or shoulders until she drifted off. She was occasionally a restless sleeper, turning back and forth. She snored terribly at times too and he’d have to nudge her back on her side.

There was something soft about it though, seeing her like this, sleep warm and pliant. She was a force when she was awake, constantly going, and heart so big he couldn’t understand how she managed. But like this, she was all his. In the dark of the room, it was just them. He could trail his fingers over her skin, could enjoy the feeling of her skin at his pace.

She’d laughed at him when she realized how much he liked it. He’d been concerned she’d be upset that he’d jacked himself off next to her but, instead, she offered him some better. She told him she’d sleep naked for him, give him easier access. And she did. Not every night but some, enough, that when he saw her strip off her clothes and lay on their bed he was instantly aroused. 

Those nights he rubbed long lines on her back, talking softly to her, pulling out all of the stops to get her to sleep and she smiled indulgently every time and let him. 

He was always gentle when she was like this. He would run his hands over her, drifting his fingers over the soft swell of her breasts, around the dusky nipples, the curve of her hips. He would cup his hand over her sex, feeling the heat under his hand before curling his fingers against the soft skin. 

A gentle kiss against her slack mouth and he’d trail kisses down her neck until he reached her nipples, fingers still moving loosely against her. He licked and sucked, lightly nipped and kissed the tender spots against his mouth as she started to become slick around his fingers. She would twist some, turn but the weight of his body kept her on her back. He would roll her on her side before he thrust into her but for now, he would keep her here as he enjoyed the soft sighs and gentle rolls of her hips against him. 

Eventually, he’d get too excited, he might thrust against her legs some before digging their lube from the bedside table. He’d shift her onto her side and slide slick covered fingers inside of her. He’d pour more on his cock, taking himself in hand. He’d pull her knees to her chest and push her chest forward. The slide into her would be amazing, the lack of resistance, the lax muscles. 

It was warm and soft. She’d normally start waking up at this point, he could only keep his thrusts easy for so long before he lost himself in it, fucking into her harder. She’d moan, writhe on him and start thrusting back unevenly and he would grasp her hips, hold her and shove himself in her slowly awakening body until he spilled deep in her. Sometimes he would put her back to sleep, still in her until he softened too much to stay inside. Sometimes he would wake her up, vibrator against her clit and a dildo being worked inside of her. Each time though, he’d wait, impatiently for her to decide to come to bed naked again.


	11. Day 11 Temperature play

Day 11 Temperature play

You suck in your breath, a sharp hiss of an inhale when the ice cube touches to your skin. You are blindfolded, wrist tied together above your head, and legs kicked out as your partner sits between them. Your skin feels fevered where the ice sits, the cold and wet seeping into you and you wait for the next moment. There’s been a pattern, soothing in a way, and it’s relaxed you instinctively into the routine. And sure enough, the heat came next. You weren’t sure how the water was still just as hot as when you started but each drop on your chest felt just under boiling. 

The ice is sliding down now, being pressed in the center of your chest and the heat of the water follows next, each moment of ice melting and the heat chasing the cube across skin. You are almost wild from it at this point, this wasn’t the first ice cube to have melted against sensitive skin. It drives you mad, the sensation of cold and heat along with the warm hands of your partner sweeping over you, teasing you, building this fire inside of you until it cracks.

You think it’s easy in a way though, the binds holding you securely, the blindfold robbing you of one of your senses. It’s easy to just be here, not worry about what else might be happening. Your only job at this moment is to exist as a canvas for someone else to work upon, your body where they sketch their design across. It’s simple and your mind rests even as your body is sent higher and higher, feelings echoing over skin. 

You aren’t sure when this will end if your partner will grow tired of the game or sorry for your struggles. If they’ll decide to make you orgasm or if they’ll seek their own pleasure and leave yours for later. You don’t care though like this everything feels hazy. The only thing that has meaning is the broken drops of cold water dancing over your skin and the fire of droplets raining over you. Time is useless in this place, drowning in sensation. 

The ice is gone and this time it’s a rough towel dragged over your skin, cleaning up the extra water. Last time the fabric was so silky it just pushed the water down your sides. The heat stops and your skin is dried completely. Your partner doesn’t say anything, just strokes life back into your skin, teasing you more. 

The hands and kisses stop, leaving you waiting for the next part. You sink into your bonds, into the bed, and wait. You suck in your breath, a sharp hiss of an inhale when the ice cube touches to your skin. Time repeats.


	12. Day 12 Feet

Day 12 Feet

There was something to be said about seeing her dressed up. She wore the strappy sandals well and he wanted to run his tongue over the skin peeking out. He wanted to trace the lines up where they wrapped around her calves to stop at the middle of her lower leg. He wanted to kneel, clean her feet with cool water and rub them, pushing and pulling against the soft skin. He wanted to give himself over to it, experience what it would be like to be consumed by her. 

“Hey! I didn’t know you’d be here tonight!” He turned to the newcomer, a smile pasted on as he talked. He kept her in the corner of his eye, dealing with the person in front of him. 

The conversation finished finally and he excused himself, heading for her. Of course, he was stopped by someone else and the music was turned up. He lost her then, her body slipping between the others who’d moved to the open space to dance. He kept looking for her, talking to everyone who passed his way, making his rounds, but all the while watching for the flash of her red top or long trail of her black skirt. Or those red sandals, just out of reach.

He gave up finally, saying goodbye to a few of the people before stepping out of the rooms he’d rented for the event. He made his way upstairs, taking the elevator to the room he’d taken. He’d gotten rooms for all of the staff, he could probably look at the list his secretary had made and see where her room was but what would he say? No, it was better to just let it go, she’d only be a part of the team for another month, her contract would be over and she’d go back to her freelance work. This project couldn’t last forever.

But when he got to his door, she was standing there, leaning easily against the wall. 

“You were looking for me.” She said it so teasingly, just there and he couldn’t respond. “Are you going to invite me in?” Her voice was a purr, warming him

“Yes...yes, of course. Please, come in.” She pushed against his chest as he went to unlock his door.

“Why, I never,” she held him still with one delicate hand in the middle of his chest. “What kind of lady do you take me for?” Her eyes were laughing at him but he couldn’t stop the blush. 

“Would you join me for dinner?” He asked instead, breath unsteady. The smile that stretched across her lips was predatory and he fumbled some when she dropped her hand. He slid his key card in under her Cheshire grin. They entered the room and he turned back to face her. She walked past him before dropping into a chair. 

“Sit down.” She gestured and he glanced around the room. There was an uncomfortable-looking desk chair and the bed. He moved towards her, planning to sit on the edge of the bed closest to her but she dropped her eyes meaningfully to the ground and he dropped instinctively, resting on his knees next to her. 

“I figured it would be like this. You spent an awful lot of time staring at my feet. Something you want?” 

He opened his mouth but it snapped shut when she pushed one of her shoe clad feet into his lap. His hands fell to the foot instinctively and he rubbed gently at the skin between the leather of the shoe. She put her other foot, sole flat, against his leg and rubbed it against his suit pants.

“...What?” He managed to look up at her, eyes meeting over his cheeks burning and her smile. 

“This what you wanted?” He nodded, unable to do anything else.

“Show me then. Take them off and clean my feet.” Her voice electrified him and he moved. He brought a bowl filled with water, soap, and wash clothes from the en suite before toeing his own shoes off, leaving them near the door. He kneeled back at her feet before taking a deep breath. His head was spinning as he unhooked the latch at the top of her shoes and he slowly unwound one of the shoes before pulling it off. He pressed a soft kiss on the top of her foot before moving to the other and repeating the actions.

He took a deep breath again, trying to clear his head as he started to clean her feet. She was leaning back in the chair, watching him. He rinsed her foot in the bowl before lathering his hands in the soap and stroking it into her feet, paying attention to the parts he thought might be sore. Before he could rinse the foot again, she dropped it against the fly of his pants, pushing into his erection with her toes. It was damp, the soap sinking through his pants.

“How expensive is this suit?” He looked at her and he wasn’t sure what his eyes told her. He felt perfect, something about the humiliation of the situation zinging him in so many ways. 

“Does it matter?” He managed to ask.

“Just curious.” 

Her toes dug into him and he could feel the heat and the damp, sliminess of the soap against his cock as it seeped farther in the fabric. 

“This one was probably about a thousand.” 

“And you aren’t worried about it? What if it stains?” Her voice was teasing again, she didn’t care about his suit and, in all fairness, he didn’t either. 

“Fuck the suit.” He pushed harder against her foot, hips rising and she laughed, the soft sound at odds with how well she was controlling him. 

“I’m going to make you cum in it. Just like this. I’m going to rub your cock with my foot until you beg me to let you cum all in that expensive suit.” 

“Fuck.” It was a breath of a word and he kissed her knee. 

“Back to what you were doing.” She moved the foot up to his chest, pushing into his shirt. He took the foot again, rinsing the soap before moving to her other foot. She teased him, pushing at him with her clean foot, trying to drive him to distraction but he managed to keep his focus. When they were both clean, she had him clean up his mess. When he came back, he couldn’t stop his moan from echoing from his chest.

She’d thrown a pillow on the floor and her feet were resting on it at an angle. She pulled a gorgeous silver anklet on both of her feet, the silver creating a pattern over the top of her feet before meeting in a ring that encircled her middle toes. 

“Lay down.” He did as she said and one of her feet pressed into his face while the other pressed into his cock.

“Let’s see how well I can play you.”


	13. Day 13 Spanking

“You’ve been asking for this for a while now, haven’t you?” You can’t say anything, the gag in your mouth preventing it. “Such a dirty little slut, you’d do anything for this.” It’s not a question, it doesn’t need to be one. 

You wouldn’t do anything to have these hands on you, the feeling of them against your skin, and everyone knows that. But the next part is the part that drives you crazy. It’s the part that you’d do anything to get. Those big hands shift down, they’ll stroke over the skin of your ass and the back of your upper thighs as you hold yourself up on the bed. And then, when the skin is nice and primed, the first hit will land. The hits with the hand are always the first few, just enough for a taste. 

When you are shaking enough, the hand will be replaced with a paddle. It’s thick and wooden, you’ve been made to kiss it more times than you can count. That feels like a thud, it hits deep and you can feel it in your chest. Those hits are a few more and they are more satisfying than the hand. But what comes next, that’s what you are here for. 

No, the cane is next. Some days it will be a thick cane that comes down like bones breaking. It burns and tears you up. You cry, tears washing away all the stress as it rewrites you, penetrates you on the outside of your body. The bruises always feel deep. 

Some days, it’s a thin cane and you aren’t sure which one is better. The thin cane is fluid, bendable and it stings. It feels like skin is tearing and it lasts for days. It leaves thin strips and sometimes they bleed. But the ache you feel deep inside, when the strikes ring on the back of your thighs, you swear you can feel it in your teeth. 

You aren’t sure if you have some kind of deep-rooted problem or condition that makes you crave this but you don’t really care. It gives you such a rush you’d never be able to quit it, never be able to walk away. It stays with you, comforts you in an odd way you couldn’t explain. It’s worth everything and you’ll always find your way back to this spot, ass up, waiting for the next hit.


	14. Day 14 Collaring

“How many times have I got to tell you I want it!”

“I don’t know, maybe when you stop yelling at me about it!”

“You started this!”

“No, I just asked what you fucking wanted for dinner!” 

“And I told you that’s your job!”

“I don’t even know what we are arguing about!”

“We are fighting about you not giving me what you said you would!” His voice crested, broke over the words and a dry sob cracked the air around them.

“You’re right.” you said, taking a deep breath. “I haven’t been. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do!” That yell wasn’t anger but brokenness forced to be covered by rage.

“Okay. You are okay. Go to our bedroom, take off your clothes and kneel down next to the bed. I’ll take care of the rest.” You wait, barely breathing as he fights with himself. You had been busy with work and you could go over hundreds of excuses but that’s all they would be, just excuses in the space between you. Instead, you take a deep breath to center yourself. You take a few moments to order dinner for you both, telling the delivery person to leave it in the box you put on the porch for moments like this before putting your phone down and going to the bedroom.

He was there, naked, on his knees exactly where you told him to be. He was shaking, hands clenching and a growl in his throat as he fought his rage back to do what you told him to.

You didn’t say anything, just dug the box out from your closet. You opened it and the black and red collar sat there, the same as it looked when you picked it out a few months ago. You didn’t tell him you found it or ordered it. You didn’t tell him when it got in. You just put it up with some vague hope you’d feel the moment when it happened. But time just kind of passed and it never felt right.

You didn’t realize he was taking your hesitancy as rejection. You didn’t realize he needed this so badly, he was always so confident to the point of arrogance but now, seeing him force himself down because he wanted it that badly, you realized you were wrong. He told you, that was probably the worst part. He told you in hesitant, soft tones how much he needed this and you told him you understood and could do this but you didn’t really understand. Now though, now it hits. Now you get it. 

“Bend over the bed. I’m giving you five right now for yelling at me instead of talking.” Your voice doesn’t shake, you don’t let it. He does what you say, moving quickly. He puts his arms behind his back, holding his elbows, and buries his face in the covers. You kick his legs to the side, pushing them out, and he sags deeper into the bed with a whine.

You don’t give him a warning, you know he doesn’t want it. Instead, you hit him. You give him enough time to count between each strike. When you are done, you rub the skin that’s redding gently. Your hand hurts from the force but you won’t say anything. This needed to be done. 

“Back on your knees.” He sinks back down, hands still crossed behind his back and he looks at you. His eyes are hazy, you know that look. You waited too long for this and it will probably hold you up for a while. It’s hard to realize how much harm you could have done to him. He’s not one to talk about his needs and you forced the issue and then didn’t give it to him.

You shove the thoughts from your head and pick up the box from the dresser you sat it on. You pull the collar out and he sucks a breath in through his teeth. 

“I’m sorry. I should have given you this when I got it in. I was waiting for the right moment and I should have realized there isn’t a right moment. That’s on me. Now, do you want this?” His eyes were wide, his chest heaving some.

“Fucking please. Please, fuck, give it to me now.” It was desperation that littered his voice, pulling it from him in a mechanical way as if his chest had been broken open and these were the only things left. 

You undo the clasps for his needy eyes before pulling it around his neck. You know how that subtle leather feels against his skin, you tested it to make sure it would be soft enough. When you reach up for the padlock, his hands are running over the collar, touching it with shaking fingers. You fasten the lock, the click of it audible in the room, and his soft swear word punctuated the moment. 

“You belong to me.” Was all you said and that was all it took. He dropped, face down into the rug at your feet.


	15. Day 15 Prostitution

Day 15 Prostitution

“So what are you thinking for the evening?” His voice was smooth, curling over the words like smoke. 

“What, uh, what do you recommend?” My voice was less sure, I’d never done anything like this before but the Hotel had great ratings.

“Depends, how much did you put on the room?” He dropped a hand to his hip, tilting it out, drawing my eye across the length of his torso. He was wearing a very fitted tank top and jeans, a normal combination but the way he looked in them made me feel like he was barely dressed. Every moment felt indecent. 

I handed over the ticket they’d given me at the front. He made a whistling noise as he looked at it. 

“Full treatment huh sug? What made you pick little old me then? What fantasy did you have in your head when you looked at our pictures and decided on me?”

“I…” My hand came up and moved through my hair, pushing the mess back. “I liked your eyes?” It sounded like a question but it really wasn’t. The look in his eyes was what made me choose him. Those brown eyes looked so kind and soft but they burned with emotion at the same time. He had a teasing expression, a knowing one as he looked at the camera with a force that made me move. His body was as nice as the other men and women in the book, he fell on the more lithe side, a runner’s body. He wore the oversized white shirt in the picture as well as his clothes now, one of his hands pulling teasingly at the hem and the other tangled in the collar of the shirt. He had shaggy black hair, just enough to run your fingers through but not enough to cover those eyes. His eyes made him stand out, that hint of fire many of the others were missing. I wanted to see it, see if he was as passionate as he looked. And now I was standing here, silence between us, like an idiot.

“My eyes?” He stepped towards me but I saw the lift of his lips. “And how did you want me to look at you? Adoringly? Lovingly? Like if you told me to stop my heart, I’d try it? Or did you want me to look down on you, put you at my feet, and treat you like my pet? Or do you want something really kinky and want an equal, someone to talk to and feed you and care for you tonight?”

My mouth opened a few times but I had no words. He looked at me and those eyes softened some.

“Sit down sug.” I did what he said, sitting on the couch in the room. He looked at me before sitting on the edge of the coffee. “What brings you into a place like this sug?”

“It’s a very long story.” I sighed, dropping my head into my hands.

“Okay. What do you want right now?”

“I don’t know.” My voice was muffled. He slid down in front of me and put his head on my lap. He pulled my hand down and put it in his hair. I let his locks slide through my fingers. I sat for a few moments and it felt like I was petting him but his eyes were half-closed and he was curled into my legs. 

He leaned up after a few moments and pressed a soft kiss against my lips. I kissed him back, instinct moving my mouth against his. He pushed me back into the cushions as he straddled my waist. He put my hands on his waist before cupping my face again and pushing his lips back to mine. 

“Take my shirt off.” My hands fell to his waist as the words brushed against my mouth. I pulled the shirt off and he arched with it, back bowing. 

My hands moved down his body, fingers drawing against the lean chest. He pulled my head in closer and I kissed at his neck. He made a soft sound at the contact. I dropped my hands back to his waist and brought him into me. I kissed at his shoulder, fingers pressing over his hip bones.

“That’s right sug, feels good.” He ground his hips into my stomach and I felt his erection pressing between us. 

The soft skin of his back passed under my hands as I pulled them up and down the length of his spine. I pushed him back some and my hands dropped to his waist. I looked him in the eye when I unfastened his pants and slid his cock out. I kept those brown eyes on mine as I ran my hand, feather-light up and down the skin there. 

“So good.” He sounded drunk, eyes on me still, as he shifted in my lap. He didn’t look away as he arched his back and reached behind him. He opened the drawer on the coffee table and pulled something out before leaning back to me. His forehead pressed against mine and I was lost in those eyes. They teased me, burning subtly but it was addicting. He looked at me as if he could see through me as if he didn’t care about who I thought I was and what everyone else thought I was but only as if what I was mattered. I never had someone look at me with such intensity. 

He put whatever he pulled out against my side and I looked down at the bottle of lube. I held out my hand and watched as he poured some into my palm. This time I watched my hand wrap around his exposed flesh as it jutted out, pants and underwear around it. 

“Look back at me.” His voice was rough now, breathing catching and I looked back, catching myself in the amber light. 

“Eyes on me.” I didn’t look away as I kept my hand on him. He didn’t break the gaze even as he began to twitch in my lap, hips shifting and body undulating. He was making a whining sound and it was so soft I wasn’t even sure if he knew he was making it. 

“I’m close.” He huffed it out, forehead back against mine and I didn’t slow down, just continued to stroke him. “You want that sug? You want me to come on you?”

“Yeah,” I said, no hesitation this time. “Come for me and keep looking at me.” His lips lifted up and those sepia eyes stayed right there. He looked amazing, teeth pressed into his bottom lip as his breath steamed between us. His face tightened, expression locked in a mix of awe and ecstasy, and he came. I felt him against my shirt, warm flush of heat, and watched the color in his cheeks brighten with it. 

“Well,” he said after his breath slowed down. “That was fun.” He smiled at me, real and the sight of his bottom lip bitten red sent a shudder through me. 

“Can I keep you?” The words fell out, inelegantly between us and I flushed.

“Depends. Will you make pretty noises for me if I play with you like you did me?” That spark was back, that fire in his eyes and he kissed me.

“Wanna find out?” My voice was broken, breathy between us. 

“Let’s.”


	16. Day 16 fucking machine

Day 16 fucking machine

It’s one question before it begins, it always is. Are you sure is spoken between them, a reminder of safe words and a soft kiss. But then she’s pushed to the floor, forced to drop to her knees. It’s everything she wants at that moment. Her Mistress, her wife normally, standing over her in a pretty skirt and blouse or a sweetheart cut dress. 

It was always a juxtaposition for her own nakedness and that was another part of it that sent lust to pool at her core like liquid fire. Some days she would be left there, on her knees, waiting. Some days she would be put to work, head buried between her wife’s legs, the heat of her, the taste of her smeared over her lips. 

Not today though, no, their most recent purchase had come in, just in time. After that last bit of business, she needed this. This time, there was a new bench in their playroom and a machine she’d spent hours picking out. 

“Over the bench whore. You can’t seem to keep that pussy closed so let’s open it up and get it some work.” She shivered as she moved, bending herself over the bench. Her Mistress locked the cuffs around her wrists and ankles, tying her to the bench, exposed. Lube was shoved inside of her with a lack of care that made her moan through it. 

Those fingers pushed at her, pulled her open as if she was nothing more than a toy and it made her burn. Then the dildo was pushed against her. It wasn’t inside of her, no, just resting at her opening and she shifted, mindless already, against the bonds. She heard some clicking sounds and then it moved, pushing in and out in a slow, steady motion. The dildo was dripping with lube on top of what was inside of her and her on slick giving her an easy glide. 

It pushed in, an easy rhythm and she lost herself in it, wiggling into it as best as she could. 

“That looks too easy for a slut like you.” The words rang out and the machine went faster. She cried out, the rhythm picking up and fanning the embers in her belly. 

“Not enough yet? Hmmm, I think I have something for you.”

She heard the sound before it registered, the buzzing catching her attention. When the wand touched her labia. She whined from it. It didn’t give her much sensation there but she knew what this was going to be and the touch of fear made it all the sweeter. The wand was shifted, almost lazily shoved against her clitoris as if it was distasteful and she cried out at the sensation. She didn’t know how the other woman always managed to hit it in the right spot every time while making it feel like nothing. 

Time lost meaning as the fire took over the embers. The machine pounded into her and she felt the drip of lube down her ass a few times as more lube was applied to the dildo, keeping her dripping along with her own fluids. The wand was pushed into her almost to the point of pain before being pulled away to be a barely felt sensation and she burned under it. She lost herself in the bonds, becoming nothing more than a body. 

She wasn’t sure how many times she came, wasn’t sure of anything beyond the buzzing pleasure that walked a line of pain and the deep, constant thrusts of the machine behind her as a counterpoint. She was sweating when it finally stopped, the wand pulling away. Her throat was sore, from the words and moans and cries she had distantly felt herself doing. Soft hands uncuffed her, rubbed her arms and legs. She was pulled up, put into a bath and cleaned with gentle hands. 

She was fed tiny bites and given sips of water. Soft hands rubbed into her skin and she slowly came back to herself.

“Was it what you wanted?” 

“Yes.”


	17. Day 17 Master/slave

Day 17 Master/slave

“I’m home!” Her voice echoed through the house and his head popped up from the bedroom. He’d been finishing the laundry, hanging the last few shirts but he sat them down, heading to her instead.

“You’re early.” He said as he dropped to his knees in front of her. 

“Yeah, sorry. I meant to text you but I got caught up on the phone. Jessica called, she and Kaden want us to come to dinner at some point next week. How’s the calendar look?” Her hand fell into his hair, patting gently as he helped her remove her shoes. He put them away.

“Would you like me to go check?” He asked, staying on his knees. She smiled at him and nodded so he stood, heading back to grab his phone from their bedroom.

“I added in some workdays so you’d know.” Her voice echoed through the house as she moved to the kitchen.

“Okay, it looks like we could do Thursday if you want. Would you like me to text Jessica?” He talked to her when he came back to the kitchen. 

“That would be good. What did you make us for dinner?” 

“I made chicken and rice with a side of mixed vegetables.” He dropped his eyes to his phone and tapped out the message before setting it down. 

“Sounds good.”

“Are you ready for me to make you a plate?”

She gestured to her side and he moved, dropping to the ground where she indicated. She leaned back against the counter with her hip and sighed. 

“I missed you.” He rubbed his face against her thigh and looked up at her.

“I missed you, Mistress.”

“Things make so much more sense here with you.” 

“I’m glad.”

“Well, I’m glad I have you!” She pulled him up against her, both of them wrapping around each other, and kissed him. “Thank you for getting rid of my stress.”

“I didn’t do anything.” He smiled at her, warm, as he gripped her tighter in his arms.

“You were here. That’s all I need.” They stood together for a few more minutes before she pushed away.

“I’m going to go sit at the table. Bring me a plate and some water. You can bring your own plate and glass as well.”

He busied himself in the kitchen, putting together the food he’d made earlier. He brought their plates first before the drinks. They sat together at the table, soft music she’d turned on earlier the only sound. He knew to wait for her, let her decide what kind of dinner she wanted to have. Some nights they talked the whole time and others were quiet, her tolerance for sound gone. It was a quiet night he realized when she didn’t pick up the conversation about Jessica again. 

“I want a bath.”

He had just finished his plate, her plate pushed in front of her and he nodded, standing and collecting their dishes. She watched him as he cleaned up the kitchen, putting the food away and washing the few dishes he had left. She didn’t follow when he left but she didn’t have to. He went and got her some pajamas before starting the water for her bath. He dropped down to his knees and waited.

She joined him when the bath was half full and had already taken off her clothes. He was a little disappointed in that, stripping her was one of his favorite things. She didn’t acknowledge him as she dropped a bath bomb into the water or when she slid in, sighing as she settled into the tub. He waited, next to her tub as she relaxed.

“Go finish what you were doing when I came in and then come back to me.” He stood and left, taking a few minutes to finish hanging the clothes. When he came back, she’d turned off the water and was laying against the rim of the tub, eyes closed. She lifted a lid and looked at him before gesturing to her feet. He caught her foot as she raised it and started massaging it. She watched him from her hooded eyes but there was still silence between them. After a few moments, she swapped her feet. 

“Bathe me.” She finally said when she was done with his rubbing. He did as she asked, cleaning her up with careful hands. 

When he was done, she stood up and he let the water out. She stepped out of the deep tub and he dried her off with a towel. She let him dress her and pulled him into their bedroom.

“You did wonderfully. Now, come let me hold you for a while and pet on you. After that, I think I’ll be all sorted out from today.” 

“Yes, Mistress.” He lived to serve and out of all the things she could, and had, asked from him, this would always be the easiest.


	18. Day 18 petplay

Day 18 petplay 

“Bandit! I’m here to check on you.” The routine was always the same. I’d come in, take off my shoes at the door, call out for Bandit, and immediately check the kitchen. Bandit was mostly a very good dog but he had a few weaknesses and any food left on the counter was it. Sometimes his owners would forget to put things away and I’d have to clean it up before they got back. 

“Hey, Bandit! Were you a good boy today?” There was the mutt in question though, it did feel like a disservice to call him a mutt. He had a lovely warm brown color and the prettiest eyes. His tail was wagging so fast the base of it seemed to vibrate. He bumped his big head into my legs and I scratched behind his ears as I looked over the kitchen. From the greeting, I knew I wouldn’t find anything out of place but I checked anyway. When he’d gotten into something, he’d always hide in his kennel. 

“There’s my good boy.” I dropped down to one knee and he licked at my face happily. “Gross, doggy kisses.” I could never get that out seriously though, ruffling through his hair and scratching gently at his neck above the collar. 

“So what’s on the agenda today, Bandit? Bath time? Playtime? What did your owners leave for us?” I stood up before walking to the whiteboard on the fridge. They’d leave a list of things for me to do with Bandit, I’d clean up from whatever it was, watch an episode or so of something on TV, and then leave before they came home. It was weird how into their dog’s schedule they were but, it was a great afternoon job for me and they paid really well. 

“Bath time after an early dinner huh? That’s smart, for such a good dog you are a messy thing!” I tapped the whiteboard before opening the fridge. There was always some fancy dog food in the fridge for days like this and I pulled it out. Taking the lid off, there was some chicken and rice mushed together. It was still warm so I didn’t bother microwaving it, instead, I pulled out the blue bowl and dumped the food inside. I set it on Bandit’s mat and he wagged his tail at me before looking at the table.

“Silly pup, you wat down here. How many times do I have to tell you that? People eat at the table, pups eat out of their bowls.” I checked his water bowl but it didn’t need a refill. 

“Now you eat and I’m going to go ready your bath.”I left him there and got the water started in the next room. When I came back, Bandit had buried his face in the bowl and was, as expected, making a mess. I waited for him to finish licking the last pieces out before I wiped at his face some, pulling the bigger pieces of food off. 

“How’d you manage to get it on your chest? Silly thing. Come on then, let’s get you cleaned up. Bandit, come.” He followed me into the bathroom. 

I carefully pulled the leather mitts from his hands, unbuckled his kneepads, and pulled off his collar and ears. The tail unattached from the plug, leaving it inside. The cage he wore didn’t come off despite his whines. I patted the side of the tub and he jumped in with a little help. I washed him with the fancy soap his owners bought for him, making sure to get all of his body and his hair. His tongue was lolling out by the time I was done and I made a sound under my breath at him.

“When you look like that I always expect you to start purring like a cat or something.” He shot me an affronted look. I let the water out as I laughed at him. I dried him off carefully before putting all the bits back on him.

“Come on, I think we should have some time to watch something.” I sat on the couch and waited for Bandit to settle at my feet. He liked to curl up right on top of them so I couldn’t leave.   
“There’s a good boy.” Somedays he wouldn’t settle and I’d play with him instead, digging into his toy chest. Somedays his owners would have me milk him and I’d spend a lot of time pushing my fingers into his prostate gently, over and over, until he was a quivering mess on the floor. Sometimes I thought I liked these days the most, his bath warm skin against my feet and some mindless television on while I played on my phone. There was something relaxing about this.

But the show always came to a close and when I checked my watch, it was time for me to go. I patted Bandit and stood up. 

“I’ll see you, tomorrow boy, I’ve got to go home. Don’t worry, your owners will be home soon.” He always made the most pitiful whines as I gathered my stuff and slipped on my shoes.

“Night boy.” I stepped out of the room, closing the door behind me. I waited five minutes before opening the door again.

“Hey babe, how’s your day going?” I took off my shoes before looking into the kitchen where a brown-haired man with the prettiest eyes sat. He was smiling at me, bright and gorgeous and there was a plate of chicken and rice waiting for me.


	19. Day 19 cockwarming

Day 19 cockwarming

“No, I don’t see any issues with the transfer. It looks like everything is running as it should. Do you foresee any problems on your end?” 

“No sir, I think everything should be smooth. We should be able to close on the deal in about two weeks.” On the other end of the video conference, a woman sat at her desk, hands on her tablet as she looked into the screen. James was glad he’d hired her, she was a strong asset to his company. 

“Excellent, any other business we need to discuss today?”

“No, I think this meeting is over. Have a good afternoon, I’ll email you if anything comes up.”

The call turned off and James moved on to his next order of business. While he was waiting for the document he wanted to open, he dropped his gaze down to his lap. 

“Having fun there?” A soft hum was the only response, the other man’s eyes were closed and James couldn’t help himself. He ran his hands through Adam’s hair, petting him gently. Adam had come into his office early that morning, looked at him before pushing his chair away from his desk and knelt down in the space, pulling his chair back. James gave him a look as Adam opened his pants and pulled him out. 

“You know I have a meeting in an hour, right?” James had said but Adam had ignored him. He shuddered as Adam sucked him down, soft skin tightening with arousal as he continued to mouth at him. 

It didn’t take Adam an hour to get James to spill, orgasming in his mouth. Adam swallowed but didn’t back off, kept suckling on the softened cock. James had managed to focus some on his work throughout the assault and he was mostly prepared for the meeting. 

“Are you planning on staying there during this?” James asked as he set up for the meeting. Adam didn’t move away so James shrugged, moving on with the next steps. He was oversensitive some but Adam was keeping his motions soft and easy so it wasn’t too much. He was able to focus on the call, letting Adam hold him gently in his mouth. 

It wasn’t the first time they’d done this. Adam had spent many an hour under his desk mouthing at him until he was satisfied. James had asked him about it once but Adam had just shrugged and told him he liked it. That’s all James had really needed to know. 

“I love you,” James said as he stroked through the hair one more time before turning back to his desk. Adam didn’t say anything, not that James expected him to. It was an intimate thing between them, words weren’t needed. But now he had to read the next set of emails, the warmth around his cock a pleasant hum in the background of his work.


	20. Day 20 impact play

Day 20 impact play

Each moment of every strike builds. It’s a rhythm that pounds into my skin, my brain, everything bases itself around the next hit. Each moment builds, spills into the next until all I have are the numbers that fall from my lips. 

Sometimes it’s a deep caressing thud that lands on my butt, the soft spot where my hips and legs meet, or the inside of my thighs. Those will leave bruises, I won’t be able to stop myself from pressing into them, back on to them to keep them there longer. 

When it’s the sting of a whip, the burn that comes from rattan moving over my shoulders, the length of my back while the wielder is so very careful with where each stripe lays, it’s almost too much. It gets me off so much quicker, the pain almost more than the snap of pleasure. I’ll stare at those marks in the mirror though I like it best when the last few are laid down on the top of my thighs so I can trace the red lines with my fingers. 

It doesn’t matter though, each strike driving me higher and higher where nothing else occurs but the next count, number and my thanks pressed into the space between us.

I’ll always come back to this, too overwhelmed and underwhelmed by the world around me to say no to this. It is all-consuming, this feeling and I’d never be able to do life without these moments.


	21. Day 21 size difference

“Help! Please, don’t do this. Help me, you don’t have to do this.” Her voice was broken by huge intakes of air, sobs cracking in the space.

“Hush little lamb. I know that it’s hard for you to understand but this is for the best. Your sacrifice is for the greater good, we are going to remake this world in our image and you will birth the new order. Don’t you see it? Your blood will give so much.”

“Please. Please. Just let me go, I won’t say anything. Stop!” They didn’t stop. The man who spoke before cut her, a deep gouge on her arm, and she cried out again. The men gathered together in a circle and began to chant. The light faded to nothing, thunder cracking over her sobs. All the sounds stopped, her tears falling silent against her will. From the darkest corner of the cave, some strange rumbling echoed out over the stale air.

"You have summoned me! What is your bidding?" The words came from a large man walking towards them. He was big, noticeably, with a strong body and over-muscled arms. He looked like a Greek statue, body, and face carved from marble. His expression was unsettling, blank across traditionally attractive features, a strong bone structure with full lips but his eyes were completely black. 

She couldn’t start back up, her voice trapped in her throat but the tears still fell and she struggled against the binding that held her captive. 

“We offer this lamb for you, we want power in exchange.” Those black eyes fell on her and she couldn’t stop the scream, her fear pushing past the paralyzing silence. He stalked closer, moved like a wave and the circle broke to let him approach her. She was hyperventilating at this point, unable to stop and he picked her up like she was a child. He tore the ropes one-handed and pressed his hand carefully into her face over one of the many bruises she was sure she had. He set her down carefully, holding her until she was steady on her feet and she felt slightly more steady despite her wound still bleeding.

“What is your bidding?” He asked again, those deep black unsettling eyes on her. 

“We were the ones that summoned you!” The man shouted behind them. 

Those black eyes didn’t move from hers but one of his hands came up and his fingers snapped. She paused, just a moment before leaning around his much wider frame to look. All the others, the ones who’d circled her were frozen, stuck in time and she gasped, hand covering her mouth instinctively. 

“What?” Came out of her mouth, pushed out despite her lightheadedness. The wound on her arm was still bleeding sluggishly and her thoughts were starting to blend together. 

“It’s your blood that called me here. What is your will?” The thing in front of her said slowly.

“I don’t want to die.” She couldn’t hold a thought any longer, the stress and blood loss overwhelming her and she dropped. But before she could hit the ground, she was caught in his arms. A deep red light flashed over the space and the men that formed the circle all dropped as if the ropes that were holding them snapped. 

She liked to sit on his lap, his body framing hers in these audiences. People discounted her, she looked like a toy in comparison but that’s why she did it. They never expected her. She liked to touch him like this too, take in the sight of her small hand running over his too large frame. Loved the distance between his shoulder blades when she stroked over his skin. They looked at her like some kind of sacrificial lamb, a sweet soft thing against the demon. They were wrong. She was a Queen and he was hers.


	22. Day 22 overstimulation

His body was stretched over the bed, wrists tied to the headboard and ankles attached to the spreader bar at the end of the bed which kept him from shifting anywhere other than his head which was currently shifting, back and forth, the motion unconscious. 

“Please, fuck. Please.” He heard the laugh from his partner as the hand stroking him shifted faster. The fingers inside of him pressed more intently, easy curls against him. 

“Aren’t you a messy little slut? The first time wasn’t enough for you? You’re already covered with your cum, is it not enough?” That midnight voice fell between them and he couldn’t stop the moan. The words, the feelings, it was all too much and not enough. 

“Please. Please,” He couldn’t stop, he barely knew what he was saying as the other played his body. 

He was moaning, louder and louder, as those long fingers and soft hand drove him slowly insane.

“Please, please let me come for you, please, please.” He couldn’t stop, thrashing as the sensations crushed him. 

“Fuck, yes, yes, there it is.” He tipped over, body tensing against the feeling as the pleasure rushed over him. He felt the heat of his orgasm, felt it hit his skin for the second time. 

“There’s a good little slut.” 

“Fuck, yes. I’m your slut. I’m yours.” The words were slurred as the hand kept moving over him. The fingers were still inside of him and he was grateful for the break-even as the feeling over his cock grew more intense. It was borderline painful but when he looked at himself in the mirror, he didn’t have any complaints. He looked fucked out, streaks of his own cum over his skin, mouth open as he panted, and his hair was wild from the movement. 

“Ask me then.” 

“I can’t. Please, don’t.” The fingers shifted inside of him, causing his words to break off into a moan. 

“No?” The hand stroked a little faster against his too sensitive skin. He couldn’t answer because his cock was engulfed in warm, wet heat and the extra sensation had him crying out again, thrashing again, body tight against the feeling and the too sharp pleasure licking up his spine. 

“Ask me.” Eyes met his and he knew he could make this stop, he could say no again or if it was too bad, he could use his safeword, but he didn’t want to. 

“Please. Please.” He forced out through the waves of sensation.

“Please what?”

“Please. Please use me like a slut.” The words on his tongue made him arch, pressing as far into the teasing as he could. 

“Two times isn’t enough? How many more do you need? Greedy slut.” He whined, unable to stop himself.

“Please.” He was already too sensitive, riding the line but there was no other answer for him. 

“Well, let’s start again.”


	23. Day 23 Formalwear

“You are not allowed to wear that.” Sharp eyes met him and she laughed at him.

“I don’t think you can stop me.”

“You are going to be the death of me.” Her smile never fell as she walked towards him. He wasn’t sure if the rolling movements were for her pleasure or his but he was hypnotized nonetheless. The movement revealed the slit in the side, the skin of her thighs visible as she walked. It was a well fitted red dress with a plunging neckline. Most of the dress was lace and he could see the skin through the fine details of the whirls and swirls of the design. It was long-sleeved, not that it hid any of her skin, just made it more tantalizing somehow. It was a long dress, down to her calves but the slits in the side had her long legs exposed up to her upper thighs as she walked, the dress flitting about her. 

Her eyes stood out, bright with laughter and he tried not to swallow his tongue. 

“What’s wrong with my dress?” Her voice was sultry, her bedroom voice and he knew it intimately. 

“You know exactly what’s wrong with it.” His voice was breathier than he’d wanted.

“Well, if you are going to look like that, I have to dress to impress too. Make sure everyone knows there’s no upgrade for you.” He glanced down at himself.

“No one is going to pay attention to me even if you wore a sack.” 

“I can promise you, you’ll have eyes on you. The way your shoulders fill out that suit, the tightness here, just a tease.” Her hands stroked over the lines of his suit. They drifted over his shoulders, down his chest, and over his hips. “You clean up too well.” 

He could feel the blush starting over his face. 

“So you wear that?”

“I have to make sure that while the others might be looking at you, you are only looking at me.” She touched his tie, a soft gesture over the heat in their eyes.

“I will never take my eyes off you. No matter what you wear.”

“We could always take these things off and keep looking at each other.”

“Just looking?”  
“Maybe more.” She smiled, feline, and pleased. He considered his responsibility and the idea of taking her out dressed like that.

“Fuck it. We can be very fashionably late.” And he pulled her close and kissed her.


	24. Day 24 Masturbation

I slammed my door shut behind me, flipping the lock instinctively. Throwing myself on my bed, I banged my face into my pillows. 

“How stupid can you be?” The words were muttered into my pillow. I knew I was socially challenged but, this was too far. “He’s just too damn hot. Those eyes. His lips. And he took off his shirt. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? And then he was being so kind and gentle and funny. Fuck.” Of course, my reaction was to mutter something and run for it. Of course. 

I’d been sitting on the dock, minding my own business when he’d come up. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you were here today! Do you mind if I share the dock with you? This one is my favorite.” I’d said sure and turned back to my sketchbook. He pulled out his fishing pole, casting a line out. He was easy to sit with and I started sketching him instead of the view I’d done ten thousand times. I wasn’t even paying attention, too comfortable to realize I’d been staring way too intensely.

He didn’t say anything about it, just smiled some and at the time, I thought he was just happy but now I realized I’d been a creeper. He moved sharply and I knew it was because of the fish but I flinched and in the process, I knocked my thermos off the dock. I swore under my breath and he looked back at me still reeling his catch in as I peered off the dock. I couldn’t see my thermos, had it sunk?

“What happened?” He asked and I told him, still trying to see over. I heard him moving behind me. 

“I got it.” I turned to look at him and in my distraction, he’d pulled the fish up and dropped it in the cooler while putting his rod down. He pulled off his shirt and I thought I was going to die. He took three steps before diving off the dock in one smooth motion. I peered over the edge again and he popped up, my thermos in his hand. He passed me the thermos before climbing back onto the dock, shaking himself when he got up. He’d made a joke about how heavy my thermos was to have sunk like it did. When I’d thanked him for getting it, he waved it off and said he needed a cool down. He’d flipped his hair then, wringing out some of the extra water and the way he looked, half-naked and wet, was too much for me. I wasn’t even sure what I’d said before I bolted. 

I flipped over to my back, covering my face with my hands. At least I definitely got some good sketching done. I jolted up, shocked. My sketchbook. I’d ran off only holding my thermos. Well. I was officially dead. I dropped back to my bed, groaning. It wasn’t a brand new sketchbook either which meant there were a lot of pictures in it. And it was already opened to the sketches I’d been working on. All of him.  
Well, maybe he wouldn’t hate me immediately? I could just say it was for practice. Figure drawing always takes so much work. Maybe he’d just think it was a little weird. Maybe he’d like it?

That thought stayed. What if he liked it? What if he offered to pose for me? I could imagine him handing me my book back.

“Your work is beautiful. Will you draw me again?” I’d be confident, secure.

“Yeah, I could always use the practice.” I’d give a little smile and he’d blush. One of his big hands would come up and hold the back of his head, he was always standing like that. He’d smile. We’d pick a day and he’d come, wearing that obscenely too tight blue shirt that did way too many good things for him. I’d set him on my couch and start sketching. He’d get comfortable, covering the space until he looked at me with heat. He’d take off his shirt and say something clever about being able to see his figure if I was going to practice figure drawing. I’d slowly get more caught up in looking at him than sketching. 

He would notice and stand up before getting closer. The heat inside me was growing just like my fantasy. He’d pull the sketchbook aside. 

“You’re overdressed.” He’d purr it, that warm voice and he’d take my shirt off. I couldn’t stop myself, pulling my shirt off as I imagined him doing. He’d kiss me, gentle at first before nipping at my bottom lip and licking into my mouth. His hands would roam over my chest. I stroked down my torso at the thought. He’d be someone to tease, playing with my nipples, stroking my skin to find every sensitive spot on me. My hands followed the path he took in my mind. He’d go slow, build it up in me until I was starving for it. 

Then, when I was shifting under him, he’d unbutton my pants. He’d touch me, teasingly, take me in those hands and explore every inch of me. Maybe he’d keep one hand there and pin me to the bed with the other, stretching me out for him to enjoy. Or maybe he’d put my hands on his body, have me touch him like a mirror and we’d drive each other higher and higher. Or maybe he’d want to put his mouth to work or have me suck him off. Maybe he’d want to fuck me. I could feel myself getting close, imagining what he might do to me. 

Maybe, maybe he’d want to spank me a little, pretend to punish me for drawing him without permission. He’d turn me over, prop me up on my knees, and rub his big hands over the curve of my ass.

“You didn’t ask if you were allowed to.” His voice would be rough, lust-drunk too. “Don’t you think it’s a little slutty to have a book like that? Pictures you made of me? My body? Who knew you would be such a dirty thing.” That image, that idea, that set me off. I tensed up as I came in my underwear, pants just unbuttoned. 

I huffed, laying back, surprised I’d come that easily. Now I’d have to clean up before going to get my sketchbook. I wasn’t sure if I was hoping he’d still be there or hoping he’d be gone so I could hide.


	25. Day 25 Bondage

There’s something about this that makes me feel so much calmer. It’s like a reflection, a mediation for me. The way the ropes or cuffs or whatever I’m using feel in my hands. The way the room feels, charged with our energy as piece by piece is set up. All of it gives me a sense of peace, acceptance, that I don’t get as much outside of this place. I’ve done this with all kinds of people and I’ve yet to really scene in a way I haven’t enjoyed. I’m not sure if I’ve just done really well picking out clients and play partners or if it's something about me.

I don’t think about it too hard, this is one of my favorite styles, and the way the rope feels drives any other thoughts out. It’s a good rope, not too scratchy, and very flexible for the work. It winds well, pulling up the body as each knot is put into place. The harness drops between spread legs and the moans that fall when the rope is tightened against soft, wet skin are obscene. A smaller harness goes there and a vibe is inserted so it sits right where it’s most wanted. The rope finishes its snaking path as the moans shift, becoming deeper and wilder as the rope holds the struggle. 

The begging starts and a gag is stuffed in, cutting off the words. The whines still escape, pushing out around the ball and it’s a delicious sound. 

I step back to look at my handiwork, ropes encircling and the beginning of tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. There’s something about this moment, the buzz of the vibe, the quivering of her body between the thick strands of rope laced against her form. The knowledge that she could stop all of this, the little bell clenched in her hand her way out. I could get her out of all of this in less than five minutes with the safety scissors next to us. But she stays, trapped under our pretense that my will is stronger. The moment spreads into infinity, her movements, and the feelings between us. I don’t even know her name and she doesn’t know mine and yet, in these few moments, she has the trust in me to keep her like this, on the edge, going a little mad with it. And I trust her, to communicate with me and to relax into it. 

It’s a moment in time, a hit of life that I’ll spend more years searching out. I’ll be back here tomorrow and the day after and after all to hit this moment where the rope or cuffs or chains and my trust with another person are infinite.


	26. Day 26 Stripping

The eyes on me created the thrill, just a shivery touch along my spine. It was indecent, I was incandescent in the moment, all eyes locked on me. My arms moved up, the music kicking in. It was a private party, just the people from the local Lifestyle community but it felt like I was in front of thousands. I’d spent my life dancing but this wasn’t the same style. Wasn’t the structure and containment, tight movements with forced ease and loose elegance. It was more of a thrum, a moment, a drum beating a tattoo along my body. 

I’d practiced this for weeks under her eyes and now, all these eyes on me, the only ones I cared about were her’s. The muscle memory helped control my movements, my brain locked on an endless loop of next and move and breathe and a cacophony of sound that I never felt when I danced for my job. Pulling the scrap of fabric that barely counted as a shirt to the side, hands running along my own heated skin, drawing those eyes, all of them, down, down, down but right back up, over my head and an oval of space in the air around myself. 

I was lost in it, the way it felt. The air around me and the lights. It didn’t stop the way the song continued, the way the music beat. It didn’t stop my motions, movements and light pattering of the fabric I’d taken off and dropped off the stage. It didn’t stop the eyes, searching and hot and on me like I was the only thing in this room. I was enthralling, a siren call in a room full of eyes. I’d never done something like this, something for me like this. My dancing before had been structured, a series of counts and corrections, moves planned for me but never by me. Until I met her and those deep brown eyes that locked on to me. 

I’d made this whole routine, picked the music, the movements. I’d done all of this with no corrections, just myself and my choices and the knowledge of the eyes on me, greedy and enthralled. It was addicting and as the music came to a close and I folded myself down into the floor like a doll that had been tossed aside, clothes on the makeshift stage around me, I knew I’d be back as soon as they’d offer me a second show.


	27. Day 27 role reversal

Day 27 role reversal

“Are you alright?” His voice was calming and I relaxed just a fraction more. 

“Maybe,” I said, trying to aim for a joke but I could tell I missed it, my voice still coated in emotions. 

“It’s okay if you aren’t.” 

“I’m really not,” I said, unable to pretend, unable to pretend to have the energy to pretend at this point. 

“Can I help?” I wasn’t sure if he was asking me how he could help or if he had his own plan. I shrugged at him, back still to the door as I sat cross-legged on the bed I’d claimed as my own in the hotel room. 

He came up behind me, loud enough I could hear his movement and I knew he did it on purpose. I wasn’t sure if I was more upset about that or not. I shook my head, deciding to let it go as his hands fell against my shoulders. His long fingers pressed into muscles that were too tense, too tight and I felt the sound at the back of my throat before I groaned as he skillfully forced the muscles to relax.

We’d been dancing around whatever it was that was between us, caught between the demands of the job and our own doubts but after today, I wasn’t sure I could keep playing. Wasn’t sure I even wanted to. 

“Feels good,” I said, leaning back some and his body moved forward, propping me up. I could feel the heat of him, solid warmth at my back but his hands didn’t pause. I tipped my head back, looked at him and he licked his lips, tongue moving reflexively. 

“I’m glad.” He finally said, the tone in that familiar sound where he expected to be listened to. He was so used to being in charge, controlling himself while I was definitely the more emotive of the two of us, more willing to dive in and experience instead of the cool, steady way he looked over everything before making his choice. I wanted to fuck that up, mess him up and make him beg for it. Wanted to fall over him like a tidal wave, consuming him into me. I wanted him, had wanted him, continued to want him in all the ways. I wanted him under me, pleasure sounds between us. I wanted him in my bed, sleeping for a change instead of walking around. I wanted him in my apartment, full of life instead of the sterile, traditional, cold place he was staying. I wanted to laugh with him, grow with him, age with him but he’d never taken the chance. He’d never pushed farther but the way he looked right now, the way I felt, I was going to push him. 

I pulled myself away from his hands. 

“Listen, we are going to have to change up the rooms. I’ll get you a room for tonight. I’m not going to be good company.” I wasn’t going to push him. I couldn’t.

“I’m not doing that.” He said, not meeting my eyes.

“Yes, you are. I can’t keep ahold of my emotions and unless you want whatever the fuck it is that we’ve been dancing around to be discussed, you need a different room.” I lost my temper, voice sharp from it. 

“I wouldn’t think you’d want to talk about it.” He said slyly and I couldn’t deal with that on top of the other. I stood, faced him, stepped into his space and his eyes got wide. I yanked his head down to mine, crashing my lips into his, fingers tangling into the short hairs at the base of his neck and holding him there as I kissed him. He didn’t pull back, didn’t try to take control of the kiss as I pushed into him.

“You’re right. I don’t want to talk about it.” I said, voice more of a snarl than words. “Now go before I do something we’ll both regret.” I forced myself to let go of him, to step back. It was too soon, too much, I was too raw for this. He didn’t leave though, didn’t even turn away, just stared at me with too-wide eyes and his hand touched his mouth carefully as if it had been changed by something more than me throwing everything away. 

“I wouldn’t regret it.” He finally said and I felt my control fray more. 

“No? You wouldn’t if I threw you against that bed, stripped you down, and then did all the things I’ve been fantasizing about?”

“No. I wouldn’t regret it.” 

“It’s not what you’d thought this would look like.” I didn’t bother to beat around the bush.

“That’s on me for not being creative. Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

“So you listened to that part?”

“I listen to everything you tell me.” His voice was warmer than normal, eyes soft. 

“Go shower. Make sure all of you is nice and clean. Then, if you still want it, we can do something about it. If not, we’ll forget about it.” I finally said, unwilling to push him too far but equally unwilling to let this go without a chance. He smiled at me despite the brief panic in his eyes and turned away. When he entered the bathroom, I stripped out of my shirt and pants, falling to the bed. 

I guess I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, he was sliding against me, shower warm skin against my own chest. 

“I thought about letting you sleep but I didn’t want to forget this.” He said a crooked smile and crinkled eyes. 

“This is definitely a good way to wake up.” I agreed as I slotted my mouth against his again. 

“So now what?” He said, a slight catch to his breath when I broke the kiss. I didn’t bother answering instead, I planted my foot into the mattress and shifted my hips up and to the side, forcing him onto his back under me. He didn’t lose his smile as he followed my movements easily and it lit a thrill down my spine. 

I didn’t dwell on how he let me flip him over, didn’t let myself think about when I finally could touch, his body spread against the bed and I ran my hands over the muscles of his chest, his shoulders, the definition of his abs. He wasn’t gym fit, his body a weapon he’d trained out of necessity and it showed. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he could throw me off of him and hurt me before I could really react or even defend myself. I’d seen him do more before. 

But his hands grazed my skin so gently, the callouses barely making themselves known. I made a noise, clicking my tongue against my teeth and he looked at me. 

“Grab the headboard. I don’t want you touching.” He tilted his head back, looked at the metal posts before grabbing them, his hand curling around. “Keep them there.” 

“Kinky.” He snarked at me but his eyes were dark. 

“If that’s kinky to you, it’s going to be a whole new world with me here babe.” Something in my face must have shown, some sharp edge because his hands tightened reflexively and he swallowed deeply. He didn’t move, didn’t drop his hands or drop me on the floor so I continued. I kissed him again, kissed a line down his neck, nipping at the thin skin at the base of his neck. He was quiet but he shifted wherever I moved, making sure I had access to the skin I wanted. 

“That’s good. I like that.” I said into his sternum as he pushed his chest into my mouth, my hands. He made a sound and I smiled to myself as I alternated sweet kisses, long licks of my tongue, and scrapes of my teeth over the muscles. 

I continued down, taking my time and drawing out more of the sounds, more of the sweet intakes of air and the sharp exhales. When I blew over his hips, he bucked up wildly, hands gripping the bar so tightly I could almost hear the creaking.   
“Now now. That’s not what you are supposed to be doing.” I teased, my words spoken just under the cut of his waist. 

“Fuck.” He breathed, the word falling between us. I bit into his side, some of my teeth in the soft part and some against his hip bone and he pushed up again, a true moan falling between us.

“Be good.” I chided and he dropped back down, body going limp. 

“Holy shit. Where was this?” He was breathing heavy, words tight and they curled heat in my own chest. 

“Not my fault you were too busy being the alpha male to see me.” 

“Yeah, I see that now.” He shifted again, just an easy, subconscious movement and I thrilled at the implication, the knowledge that he was enjoying this almost as much as I was. 

“Let’s see how you do with the next bit.” I paused, waiting for him to look down at me. “Be good, be still, and keep those hands where they are.” And then, not giving him a chance to respond, I sank my mouth over him. He went tense, muscles were drawn tight and standing out, as I sucked lightly over the head. 

“Oh… oh fuck.” His words fell between us from his clenched teeth. I was impressed, he’d clamped down but wasn’t moving, was laying there, hands clenched around the bars like he could break through them and every other sinew of his body in stark relief but he wasn’t moving, wasn’t bucking into my mouth. 

“That’s very good,” I said when I pulled off and the sound he made was pure sin. “You are being very good for me.” His eyes flew open and his body shifted, pushed into me against his will as he whined, open-mouthed and hot. 

“Holy fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Fuck.” He’d forced himself back down, eyes shuttering and I was more flattered than upset. 

“I’ll forgive you this time.” I smiled, wrapping a hand around him. He shivered, an involuntary movement and I bit at his hip again. 

“Fuck. Fuck. I know we just started and I’m going to be really embarrassed about this later but I’m so fucking close. I. This. It’s so good.” He had a thin sheen of sweat at his chest, eyes blown dark and his bottom lip was swollen, red from his own teeth. I thought about teasing him, thought about slowing down, making him beg. I thought about stopping but decided against it. He’d done well and I was tired, body overwhelmed from the different rushes of emotions. 

“That’s fine. You come when you are ready.” I winked at him when his eyes were on me before putting my mouth back against his length. Hearing his moans and curses made me drop a hand between my own legs, my arousal needing the attention. 

It didn’t take either of us long, him coming after a particularly hard suck and me following quickly after, his whines as I continued to mouth at him pushing me over the edge along with him. 

I left him there, went into the bathroom, and cleaned myself up before wiping his sweat coated chest and hips down as well. 

“You can let go now.” I teased, a smile when he tilted his head back to look at his hands. 

“Ha, would that I could.” He grimaced a little and I massaged the muscles in his forearms before his hands would unlock. 

“You can be a real piece of work sometimes you know that right?” I said after I checked his circulation. 

“But you love me.” He smiled stupidly at me and I tossed his arm back against his chest.

“More like you love me.” I tilted my head back and looked down at him.

“Heaven help me but I do.”


	28. Day 28 crossdressing

Day 28 crossdressing

WARNING - It's a little gender dysphoria. Be prepared or skip. Idk what happened, I just wrote it.

My parents taught me about femininity. My mom sitting in front of her mirror, artifacts creating a space for her creativity and his control resting on a crooked counter. My father, expecting hands and damning eyes, words falling out like too many broken bottles. She wore her femininity like a sword, a weapon to maneuver in a world she wasn’t allowed to exist in and he demeaned her femininity as if it made her inherently less valuable in a world that allowed him too much space to exist. I watched them, young already tired eyes, as they fought over the fractions of space that forced them into weaponizing concepts of themselves that I don’t think they ever liked. 

I didn’t have so many problems. When I was young, trapped in their world, I wore my femininity like my artifice, fake and flaky, falling to the wayside whenever I felt the tiny bit of freedom I could dig out. Now though, now that I exist in my own space, far from the entirely too small, too backwoods hole my parents had dug, my femininity exists as part of myself alongside the person I look at in the mirror. 

My bathroom counter holds the accessories of a careless woman, shades of color, and tools of a far older trade. It also holds other parts, a compression shirt I’d tossed off when I’d come in last night. A comb for pulling through my barbershop hair. The one pencil I’d discovered that gave me the perfect five o’clock shadow, a deepening sense of the masculine shades I wrapped around myself as easily as I pulled pearls across my neck. 

I existed in some in-between most days, an oversized shirt to hide my chest and leggings. High heels and a tie. A glance, a double-take, a too-long question as they try to see behind the clothes I wrap myself in. 

Somedays I take the time to outline high cheekbones, a gift from my mother. I touch a faint blue-tinged grey to my eyelids to make the blue of my eyes stand out, the gift from my father. I wrap my neck in silver chains with delicate pendants, pull on the underthings that lift and rearrange, giving me that hourglass figure when I slide the sheath of a dress carefully over my hair. It’s hard with the shortness of my hair but the vibrant trappings of a woman sit easily over my body, just the smallest of distractions, the smallest moment of a question though I’m sure most explain it away if they even consider it in the first place.

My moments are easy, I fit like this. I keep myself tight, balanced in my lower core so I dance across the ground on swaying hips and aware of my body, the space I take on seats, in public, in front of others. I’m more aware like this, the knowledge of danger sitting in my hindbrain when I walk away from my friends, from the safety of the crowd. It makes me confident but fear is a powerful companion despite. I make people stare or maybe I don’t, maybe the focus of society makes them stare, even in this place, the weight of expectations weighs and I feel it like this. I see my femininity as the weapon it could be, feel the weight of too many eyes I never asked for and words against tongues meant to fall like too many glass bottles. But there are moments it's worth it, to be this. The companionship, the easy way I can touch my friends. The space that creates itself among those the society of the time has somehow agreed to force into a lesser position despite our pride, our threats, our passion.

Somedays I pull on the sports bra, pull on the compression shirt that feels like a weight but doesn’t hurt, doesn’t pull, just hugs me like a weighted blanket of a relief I’m not sure how to contain. I pull on boxers, pull up jeans that fit loose and wide. A belt, thick and leather, something I couldn’t wear with any other pants. A loose shirt over the compression, a button-down or flannel over it. Something to distract from the curves I have despite the constraints. I deepen the lines of my face, never too much to draw attention, just enough. I create the shadows and lines as if I could grow hair. My hair is messy and easy. Something that looks as if I threw clothes on, masculinity falling from me as if it didn’t take time to create. 

I move differently these days, a slow slide, a wide stance. I don’t concern myself in the same way when I take up space, I notice the things around me differently. I create energy, feeding it out in a lazy stroll and a slumped shoulder. I am casual, a live wire, but restless in a way. I keep my eyes on the women around me but only brief seconds to make sure they remain untouched willingly, using the fake privilege of masculinity to offer what I can in a society that has determined without reason or offering that my position is higher. But I miss things like this too, I miss the easy way I can share with friends despite all of us knowing I’m no different today as I was with the pearls. I miss the easy contact, the emotions I took for granted, leaving them behind like falling leaves instead of the way I’m supposed to chew the glass of too many bottles. My own fear doesn’t ride me but I can sense the feeling from the others around me, just enough for me to know that they may look at me as a predator and I try to throw soft smiles, smiles with no teeth, smiles to prove I’m not hunting, there’s no danger here, just someone with too little skin for too big emotions trapped behind lines I didn’t want forced on me. 

Femininity always seemed like a sword to me as a child and I was forced to learn it at my mother’s knee. But now I see masculinity is only a shield, a defense against a society that has damaged the emotions of a group alongside teaching it superiority and nothing creates a vacuum that exists between power and weakness when both are the same sides of different coins. I exist in both spaces, the sword, and the shield and I hope that as time passes, as more people throw aside the things we’d been taught and create new spaces, new moments, new things to pass to the children with young eyes that aren’t too tired, they aren’t weapons we pull to ourselves but instead moments of creativity with no control. No words to fall between two people, no fear, and no reactions. Just us, as we exist when we have the choice for ourselves.


	29. Day 29 Praise kink

“You okay, Ty?” The deep voice came from behind him, over the consistent thud of his head into the table. 

“No.” He said, continuing the pull in his shoulders as he hit his forehead into the space where his keyboard normally set. He felt the heat behind him before a hand slid between the desk and his last thud and he stayed, not bothering to lift his head again. He could feel the long fingers and the ridges of his knuckles against the tender, thin skin. He rolled his face, pushing his cheek into the hand as he peered behind him, eyes blinking slowly. 

“You need to sleep.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do. I do what I want.” He said back, lacking his energy. 

“Ty.” His name sounded soft and he forced himself to sit back in his seat.

“I can’t man. I can’t sleep, I can’t close my eyes. And I’ve got all these deadlines, all this shit piling up and I’m behind schedule. I can’t fuck this up.”

“You can’t keep going like this. Pack up your computer, we can go to my place. I’ll feed you, put on some movie and you can sleep for a few hours.”

“You don’t have to.” He didn’t even convince himself on that one. 

“I want to, man. Ride or die besties right?” Tyler didn’t respond, didn’t trust the lump in his throat or the heat of his eyes not to betray him. Instead, he turned back to his computer, shutting it down and throwing his laptop in his bag. He grabbed his other pieces, packing up quietly before standing up. Chris already had his bag, thrown over one shoulder and he gave a wan smile as Tyler followed.

The ride to Chris’s always seemed to last forever, trapped in traffic that never seemed to let off. His hand was on the wheel, Chris in the seat next to him and it almost felt normal, like he did this all the time. It felt normal to go home together, to think about dinner and evening plans and sleep together. He needed to find a girlfriend. Or get laid, he wasn’t really in a position to be picky. It had been a year since his last attempt to have a relationship and her weird problem with his and Chris’s friendship was the driving nail in their separation. 

“Big thoughts there buddy?” Chris said, eyes still on his phone. 

“Ha, no,” Tyler responded, shifting his hand to change the song. Chris was always okay with whatever music he put on despite the occasional comment but, Tyler tried to find a middle ground most days. He always felt particularly rewarded when he noticed a new song in Chris’s playlists. He would never admit to how many songs he listened to in order to have a few moments of pleasure over that little thing.

He tried not to think about it, his tired mind in no shape to continue circling that topic as he pulled into Chris’s apartment complex. They parked and walked upstairs together, drifting into each other’s spaces like always. Chris unlocked the door and went to the kitchen. Tyler sat in his chair, pulled out his phone, and entertained Chris. He’d been banned from the kitchen pretty early on, a joke between them. Chris forced Tyler to learn how to cook a few things but most nights, Chris preferred cooking alone. 

Tyler enjoyed it, enjoyed the care in the actions, the way Chris always seemed to have food he preferred. And he loved watching Chris like this, the taller man’s motions confident and secure as his animated hands focused on tasks he knew by heart. There was something about it, something mesmerizing and he’d always wanted to say something serious about it, some grateful words or praise or something but the only words that fell from his mouth were friendly teasing. That was their relationship, some line neither of them would cross and Tyler was tired of it. 

He wasn’t sure if he was more tired because of his lack of sleep or tired of the emotions it took to be around Chris, the pull of hiding his love behind friend and bro instead of dropping the sweetheart he felt. They skirted it sometimes, a randomly said babe, the way Chris would say Ty, the affection in his voice when he called him big guy. It was never enough and Tyler was concerned he was too out of it, too tired to play his part tonight. He considered, fleetingly, running. Just leaving. He could distract Chris with a fight, felt mean enough to start it under the exhaustion but it would do no good. 

Instead, he took his spot at the table when a plate of food dropped in front of him and he watched with hooded eyes as Chris sat across from him, plate touching down easily. 

“Looks really good,” Tyler said, trying to not make it weird. 

“I’m glad!” There was a pleased little smile and they ate, soft music the only noise in the room. Tyler helped clean up, same as any other time, despite the lethargy in his bones and despite the offer for him to go sit, pick something to watch. He was drying the dishes as fast as Chris washed them and when the last one was done and put away, he dropped the towel on the counter with a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out if he could even make it through a movie, if he really wanted to try to fall asleep on Chris’s admittedly okay couch or if he wanted to just go back to his place and watch his clock until the morning.

“You are staying here tonight. I’ll change the sheets if you’d rather have the bed.” Chris was looking at him and Tyler turned to face him fully. He considered the expression and knew the argument would be useless. 

“Fine.” 

“Good.” Chris looked relieved. Tyler turned, unable to stand anymore and dropped on the couch. Chris disappeared down the hall and Tyler turned on the television. He wasn’t sure what to watch, didn’t really care and instead of thinking about it too hard, he threw on the latest episode in a series they’d been trying to watch. He fiddled with his phone, screen paused until Chris came back. 

“You coming, man?” Tyler finally asked, feeling slightly better as the food hit him. He’d skipped lunch and breakfast which probably hadn’t helped with his mood. 

“Yeah, just changed the sheets, sorry,” Chris said as he came back into the room.

“Aw, man, I’m not going to steal your bed.” And if he’d been thinking about that, he’d rather the old sheets, the smell of Chris’s soap sunk in so he could wallow in it. 

“It’s an option.” 

“I guess we could always share. Not like it would be the first time.” They had to sometimes, hotel rooms could be expensive and neither wanted to upset the budget too much. 

“Yeah.” Chris laughed, a little choked and Tyler ignored it in favor of pressing play. Chris dropped on the couch next to him and they slowly relaxed into the space. By the end of the next episode, Tyler had spread over the couch, shoved his feet in Chris’s lap and was propped up on one of the crazy stuffed animals Chris had. He’d always thought it was cool, instead of the normal throw pillows, Chris had a large lime green dinosaur, a blue narwhal with a rainbow horn, and a giant purple cat that always ended up tucked under one of Chris’s arms. 

Tyler was almost asleep, content and warm as Chris’s hands circled over his feet. He wasn’t sure when he’d lost his socks, shoes sitting near the door where they’d both taken them off as they’d come in. It sent a little thrill down him, the feeling of bare skin and the realization Chris had taken his socks off to rub at his soles. 

“Thanks. That feels good.” He said, slurred as the long fingers pressed against his heels, rubbing the soreness from his feet. There was a pause in the motion at his words and there was a little noise, just a slight intake of air that Tyler happened to catch. Tyler paused, focused and awake at that.

“Hey Chris, if I asked you something would you tell me the truth?” Tyler asked, trying to decide if he was really going to do this.

“Yeah?” His word was elongated and he was focused on Tyler’s feet, hands still soothing but his body was tense.

“Is this you flirting with me?” He finally asked, unable not to take the chance. He was too tired, too over the dance not to try.

“Have been for years buddy, but thanks for noticing,” Chris said, aiming for a teasing tone but falling flat.

“No, you’ve been doing good. Really good. I just didn’t..” His words stopped at the gasp from Chris, a sharper intake of air and his hips pushed forward just the tiniest amount, and had Tyler not been looking, he would have missed it. 

“Hey, Big guy?” Tyler finally said, not commenting on the blush spreading across Chris’s neck or his newly rediscovered fascination with how far that blush might go. 

“Yeah?” His voice was slightly ragged, not enough for someone who hadn’t been living in his pocket for years to hear but Tyler had been.

“If I’m off base, tell me okay?” Tyler didn’t wait for the words instead, he did the thing he’d been thinking about for years and pulled himself into Chris’s lap, spreading his legs over and bracketing his best friend’s hips. 

Chris said nothing, hands falling to Tyler’s hips like they were drawn there and his eyes were wide. He huffed a little, looking at him and that damned blush was still there. The part of his long neck he could see peeking under the collar of his blue button-down shirt was red too. His hands went straight to the top buttons, undoing them one by one until he stopped at Chris’s breast bone, the blush finally tapering off. Tyler couldn’t handle that and touched the skin he’d exposed with careful fingertips. 

“Fuck, Ty!” Chris pressed his shoulders into the couch, opening up his chest more for Tyler’s fingers. 

“Good?” He asked, still watching the play of color against his friend’s normally pale skin and his own deep tanned skin. 

“Think that’s an understatement. But, what… what is this?” His voice hiccuped and Tyler felt a little undone at the thought that it was because of him.

“Something we should have done a long time ago.” 

“You aren’t going to regret this are you?”

“No. How could I? I’ve wanted this, you for so long. Hell, everyone already thinks we are together, why wouldn’t we do it? I know we’ve both lost relationships because other people couldn’t get that we were a package deal. I love you, man. It’s been you and me for all this time, why not make it deeper, better? Besides, what’s really going to change? You’ve been the best damn partner I’ve ever had, the only thing you haven’t done is put out.” He teased, face warm from the confession.

“Oh fuck, oh god. You can’t just say shit like that.” 

He looked at Chris then, took in his eyes and his furrowed brow, the high cheekbones, and too sharp nose. He was angular everywhere, long planes of off proportions. His eyes shone though, amber and warm. He wasn’t classically handsome, didn’t have the right features for that but when he smiled, his eyes closed tightly, creating wrinkles at their corners and his thin lips spread and his joy was palatable and if that wasn’t the most beautiful sight in the world, Tyler would eat his hat. And the way he moved, that should have been illegal, the things he did to Tyler. His hands were animated always, gestures wide and encouraging. He was always in motion, tapping or shifting from leg to leg. He had a bad habit of mussing his hair, throwing it wild with a long hand raking through it and all of his expressions ruined Tyler for other people. They could have entire conversations by barely speaking, Tyler translating for the people around them when Chris couldn’t deal with the extra. 

Chris tilted his head, confusion on his face and Tyler shook his head. 

“It’s nothing, just thinking about you.” Chris blushed. 

“So should I put out?” 

“Depends, do you want to?” 

“I mean, at this point, we’ve been together for a year. That seems like a long time to make you wait.” 

“Yeah, I have had a metric fuckton of awkward boners and late-night dates with my hand.” Tyler was smiling and watched the look of open appreciation on Chris’s face. Chris laughed again.

“Same buddy. It’s been the same for me.”

“Let’s do something about that dry spell then.” Tyler tipped himself forward, kissing Chris lighty. He was starving for it, the feel of the other man under him, the scrape of their stubble, the taste of his mouth but it was sweet like this, soft and easy and the huffing sounds Chris was making as their mouths slid easily made it worth it. 

“Fuck that’s good,” Tyler said as he pulled back, resting his forehead against Chris’s. Long fingers had inched their way under his shirt and he enjoyed the way they traced up and down on either side of his spine. He’d been working on buttons himself during the kiss, Chris’s shirt open and rucked up so his hands could roam over pale skin. 

“Yeah, worth the wait.” 

“Babe, you were always worth the wait. Always so fucking good for me.” Tyler wasn’t entirely sure of how well his words would go over but he’d noticed the other little reactions and wanted to know if he could do better. And he was rewarded for his effort when Chris whined, bucking up against him uncontrollably. 

“Something you wanna tell me?”

“Not,” his words broke over a sigh, “not particularly.”

“I don’t believe you,” Tyler said in a teasing voice, hands stroking down Chris’s sides. He didn’t let Chris answer though, kissing him again before trailing over that stubble, the line of his jaw, nipping into his neck. He bit down on his collarbone, felt the shudder of his body. 

“Please, please,” Chris said in a pant and it was like a live wire attached to Tyler. 

“Whatcha want babe?” His voice was low and slow, dripping like honey. He didn’t normally get like this, playful but with an edge. 

“Let me do something for you. I could suck you off?” His voice was rough, they were both too keyed up to have only been making out on the couch like two teenagers. He didn’t care though, it had been so long and it was Chris, his Chris, and there would be time for slow afternoons later. 

“You want that babe? You wanna be good for me?” Chris couldn’t hide his moan this time. 

“You got a bit of a praise kink there, don’t you? It makes sense that you’d be kinky. All that repression.” 

“I… I like it.” He finally said, tilting his head down as if he was embarrassed. “I only noticed it really with you though.” And that thought sent fire down his spine, arousal licking up. 

“Fuck, do it. Suck me off.” Chris didn’t hesitate, pushing Tyler off before standing up. Tyler joined him, yanking off his shirt before stepping away from Chris’s reaching hands.

“Not here sweetheart. We are going to the bed.” Chris followed him to the bedroom and Tyler pulled off his pants and boxers. No reason not to at this point. Chris stared at him wide-eyed for a moment. 

“Hopefully that’s a good speechless,” Tyler said, feeling a little self-conscious as he pushed Chris’s button-down over his arms. Chris didn’t say anything for a handful of seconds before pushing Tyler into a sitting position on the bed.

“Fuck, it is. You are so damn hot.” Chris dropped to his knees, pulling Tyler’s hips close and drawing his mouth over the head of Tyler’s cock. 

“Oh shit, oh fuck. That’s so good Chris, you feel so good.” Tyler’s hands fell to Chris’s head, back curling forward so his fingers could tangle in dark brown hair but he didn’t push or pull him, just held him. Chris made a sound again, the echo of it traveling up Tyler’s dick and if he wasn’t so damned turned on, he’d be embarrassed about how easy he felt. But Chris didn’t give him the chance, pushing himself past the head and over his shaft. His long fingers curled over the rest of him, a drag of a counterpart to the wet heat, Chris had enveloped him in. Tyler shifted forward, moving up and cocking his hips on an angle so he could see Chris’s face down the length of his body. Tyler’s hands untangled from his hair, going down to run a thumb over a cheekbone and Chris’s eyes pulled up. 

“Good boy,” Tyler said, trying to sound confident, pushing it out of his chest and Chris’s eyes blew wide open, mouth pulling back as he moaned hard, sound rattling. 

“Fuck, fuck.” He said as he dropped Tyler’s dick but his hand kept going as his head slammed into Tyler’s hip. “Ty, fuck, you can’t… I can’t.”

“You can. I say you can. Now be a good boy and make me come.” Tyler said and Chris moaned again before sucking him back down. It didn’t take long, the wet heat and the drag of skin, the look in Chris’s eyes. He felt overwhelmed in all the best ways, trying to keep the words spilling from his lips as he stroked Chris’s face, his hair, his neck. 

“Fuck, I’m so close. You are doing so good baby, so good. That’s right, my pretty cocksucker, fuck. So good for me.” With the words on his tongue and the moan Chris made running along his dick, he came, suddenly, only somewhat expected. Chris didn’t pull off, swallowing around the orgasm and suckling lightly as Tyler came back to himself. 

“Come here baby, it’s your turn.” Chris stood up and Tyler unfastened his pants and pulled them and his underwear off in one easy move. “Got you worked up, didn’t it? You on your knees, sucking my cock. Look how wet you are for me. Pretty boy.” He’d dragged Chris forward, pulling him between his legs and he nipped at the skin in his reach. 

Chris made him feel slightly better, he was worked up too and it only took a few long pulls of his cock before he was tensing up, coming against Tyler’s chest and falling into him. 

Tyler pulled him on the bed more before he got up and cleaned himself up. He came back with a wet rag and cleaned up Chris as well who made a soft, punched-out noise and Tyler didn’t bother taking the rag back, tossing it into the bathroom and falling on the bed with Chris. He pulled the long man to him, curling around him despite being shorter.

“I’m never the little spoon,” Chris said, after a beat.

“Got a problem with it?” 

“Long as you plan on taking turns, not at all.” Chris teased back, pushing himself into the hold more. 

“You can have holidays, your birthday. Those kinds of days. Special occasions.” 

“Any day I’m with you is a special occasion.” He yawned, sentence cutting off and Tyler nuzzled into his neck, his own exhaustion coming again. 

“We can argue it out later. For now, be good and let me sleep.” There was nothing more to be said and snores soon filled the air. Tyler knew Chris like he knew his own mind. He’d always be good for him.


	30. Day 30 Sex toys

Day 30 sex toys 

He was sitting on his couch, something on the television. It wasn’t unusual, a Tuesday or a Wednesday kind of feeling but when he looked to his side, Jeremy was there. That also wasn’t unbelievable, Jeremy had been at his house on a Tuesday kind of day, pizza devoured between the two of them, and some movie they would heckle between them. But this time, everything had a weird intensity, a moment in the air that he didn’t know how to respond to, how to react to. It made the hair on the back of his neck raise some, an uncomfortable twitch just there, just out of reach. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off Jeremy and that wasn’t exactly new but the inability to crush the desire was. But there was something about the thick curls of Jeremy’s oak brown hair or the golden sheen of his deep tan skin. Maybe it was the length of his shoulders, the defined strength of his arms, muscles peeking unfairly out from a soft blue shirt. Or the tepid grey-black eyes along with the soft smile curling across soft lips. 

He felt awkward in comparison, the way he did as he was growing up, too many angles, proportions off as he shot up one summer from short and padded to long and lanky. His hair was too wild and untamed, a particularly plain brown color that matched his particularly plain eyes and his too-pale skin. He wasn’t as eye-catching as Jeremy, was comfortable in his own skin but part of that was accepting who he saw in the mirror. He was an over six feet tall combination of too plain and too-long features. He enjoyed running which kept him strong enough, some form of grace finally settling in his bones but it didn’t create the muscular frame Jeremy had. 

He blinked, thoughts around him sluggish and warm, his face heating up at the situation. What was happening? But then Jeremy was moving forward, and he was being pushed into the couch and Jeremy’s legs were straddling his, sinking onto his lap and he wanted to cry from the sensation. Those strong fingers were tangled into his hair, yanking his head forward and their mouths crashed together. Jeremy was just the right side of rough, controlling the kiss and nipping gently down. His tongue flicked out, teasing because those hands wouldn’t let his head move any closer, trapping him too far to take it deeper, make it wetter. 

“What the fuck.” He said, breathless and hoarse when Jeremy finally backed up. He gave no answer, just a quirk of his lips. 

Time skipped and somehow he was in his bed, naked and Jeremy was over him. His hands were pinned above his head, Jeremy’s palm and fingers a brand over the skin. His other hand was pulling at his nipples, pinching them and stretching out and he’d never thought he’d be sensitive like that. Had never been sensitive like that if he could remember other times he’d done something like this.

“That’s right, there’s a good little slut. You like me playing with your tits, don’t you?” Jeremy’s voice sounded wrecked and he’d never heard that tone before. He would never have thought he’d want to hear something like that, dirty and kind of degrading but, his body didn’t seem to agree. His cock twitched and he followed the motion, hips pushing into Jeremy and a moan on his lips. 

“I asked you a question. Do I need to spank your ass cherry-red to get an answer?” He couldn’t look in Jeremy’s eyes, words sounding like something that came out of a porn. 

“Yes.” He finally managed, word hissed between his teeth.

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, I like it when you play with my tits.” He finally said, feeling hot, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes but why in hell’s name was he still this hard? The feeling of it ran up his spine, electric, and he’d never considered this before but he couldn’t breathe through it. 

“That’s good.” His voice said and it sounded like it was miles away. “Ready for me to stuff this hungry little hole of yours? I bet you’ll be a cock slut, you look like you’d want it.” He shivered in the hold. He’d never thought about this, not like this. He’d thought about Jeremy, he’d be lying if he said otherwise. He thought about jerky hand jobs and blow jobs, but when it came to penetrative sex, he’d always just skipped over it mentally, not sure why or how it would be. He had the physical of course, knew where everything went, and after a few nights of furtive research with a privacy block, knew more than he probably really needed about prep and aftercare. 

“Not going to answer me? That’s not very good. Maybe I should stuff you with a dildo and drop some clamps on you until you are willing to talk to me? What do you think?”

Something happened, some fundamental shift and he was being opened up, Jeremy’s fingers scissoring inside of him, eyes locked onto the sight and then there was a fake cock pressed into him. His mind skipped over the details, some combination of pleasure and pain and stretch hitting him but not in a way he felt, more of an understanding. He shifted and the movement caused a clunking sound and when he glanced down, there were two clamps on his nipples and a pink chain connecting them. When had that happened? But he could almost feel it, the sensation of the metal and the flash of pain and the longer he looked, the sharper it felt. 

“That’s right, you are going to come for me, just like this. On this fake cock with your tit’s in clamps because you are nothing but a cockslut. After, I’m going to fuck your mouth and blow my load all over your face. And you are going to thank me for it aren’t you? Because if you don’t, I’ll break out some new toys and fuck you up.”

“Fuck, Jeremy.” He said, words falling out in a rush, breathless and high and that’s not what he’s supposed to sound like right now.

He felt overwhelmed, body flickering back some unknown feedback, mind sluggish in the moment. He could feel himself twitching, rocking back, pushing forward into something, trying to finish himself off. He couldn’t say anything though, tongue trapped behind clenched teeth and Jeremy was going to do it, was going to torture him and there was nothing he could do about it. Didn’t he want to do something about it? Didn’t he want Jeremy to stop?

“Dude! I can’t believe you!” The voice broke through and he whined from it, flinching. He didn’t answer and how was he going to be punished for this now? His mind caught up, wait, no there was something else. A hand shook him and he jolted up, awareness slamming into him with a force.

“We were going for pizza and here you are sleeping?” Jeremy, the real Jeremy looked at him. “Are you okay? You look like you are trying to get sick, man. Maybe you should just go home?” He glanced around. He was in Jeremy’s living room, he’d met up with him after Jeremy went to the gym after work. Jeremy had gone to shower and change before they left. He had wrapped himself in the blanket Jeremy kept on the couch and laid down, planning on scrolling through his feed. He must have fallen asleep, it was all just a dream. 

“Weird dream.” He rasped out, trying not to think about it, trying to clear his head and not consider the current voice telling him that he was a cockslut and that was definitely something he’d consider later but not right now. He tried to calm his body down, tried to calm himself down, tried to think about anything other than the hard-on he had pressing into his pants uncomfortably and he was very thankful for the blanket but he was absolutely positive that if he stood upright now it would be painfully obvious how weird his dream was. 

“Yeah, I bet.” Jeremy’s voice was off, a little down and he glanced up. “Was it at least good? Since, you know, you were sleeping on my couch.”

And that was weird but maybe it was just him? Maybe he was making it weird? How weird was it, factually, to have a very kinky erotic dream on his best friend’s couch? He’d never even thought he was kinky, had seen kinky porn, and was basically one giant shrug on the whole thing. Was Jeremy kinky? Was he actually kinky and his subconscious was trying to get him on the same page or was he having some kind of health issue? A weird stroke? A bad trip? Had someone slipped him acid or something? Was he about to die?

“Dude?” Oh, Jeremy had asked him a question and not answering was definitely weird.

“Inconclusive evidence.” He finally said, unable to stop the spiral of his thoughts. 

“That makes sense,” Jeremy said but it didn’t. It couldn’t have made sense, it didn’t make sense to him. How could it make sense to Jeremy? 

“What?” He asked, after a too-long beat of a break. Jeremy didn’t say anything, just looked at him.

“Do you really want to know?” He finally asked and that didn’t sound good. In fact, it sounded like too many times of them catching each other staring and glancing away. It sounded like the shoulder bumps and hugs that last too long. Did he want to know? He could say no and Jeremy would tuck it away like he always did, they’d go get pizza, watch some movie, be safe and comfortable and normal and here he was, still blinking like an idiot at Jeremy who was standing over him, a hand reached out on his shoulder and eyes dimming by the second. He had a careful look on his face and he hated the fact that he knew that was Jeremy’s mask, his work face, his rejection face.

“I want to know.” He finally said on a long exhale. It was time to face this.

“You were talking in your sleep.” And Jeremy’s face was flushing red but it had nothing on his own face, he was sure.

“Oh, wow, okay.” And what exactly had he said? The dream had already started to do that hazy thing where he was having trouble remembering specific parts but he remembered it had been. A lot. And he wasn’t sure what that meant. What had he said?

“I wasn’t planning on saying anything. Dreams are weird, I know and like, I didn’t want to embarrass you or anything. But.” He trailed off, looking to the side.

“I said something that made you uncomfortable?” 

“You said my name.” And he had a flash of remembrance, of how he’d said his name and what Jeremy was doing to him when he said the words. He opened his mouth to say something, apologize? But before he could figure out where he was going with his thoughts, Jeremy had slammed him back down on the couch, body lurching him backward and his lips connecting with almost violent accuracy. 

“Dude, I don’t know what dream me was doing to you but I was so fucking jealous I couldn’t stand it. I’ve never been cockblocked by myself but, I would in fact kick my own ass.” The words were pushed between breaths between sucks and licks and nips on the skin of his neck, between hands pushing his shirt up and he tried to get his wits about himself, body still sluggish despite the shock of his wakeup. 

“It was kinky.” He said, breath huffing out.

“Yeah? You like it like that?”

“Don’t know, never tried it.” 

“We could. I have a few toys, some time. I’ve done some things.” 

“Is some things code for people?” He tried to sound confident, tried to at least sound normal.

“Depends, you wanna be one of my things?” And Jeremy had picked up on that part, of course he had.

“What exactly did I say?” 

“I could tell you or I could make you say it again.” The words were whispered into the soft spot behind his ear, a wet tongue flipping against the sensitive, delicate skin and he couldn’t stop the full-body shake. 

“Fuck, Jeremy.” 

“That’s one of them. You want me to show you the rest? I bet I could figure out how just how dream Jeremy rocked your body.” 

And that was probably the worst pick-up line he could have used but for some reason, it worked. 

“Show me your toys then.”


	31. Day 31 Free Day - telepathic bonds

Day 31 Free Day - telepathic bonds

He’d known better, had always known better but her bright eyes lured him into a false confidence. She’d made cupcakes for the office, stepped up to his desk, and offered him one. They’d all told her that he didn’t like chocolate and he didn’t want to lie about it and say he was allergic so it led to this.

“You wanna try one?” Her voice was slow, smooth, and curled so friendly. He’d never told anyone why he couldn’t have the chocolate, only that he didn’t like it. There was something about chocolate, dark chocolate especially, that sent his telepathy skyrocketing. He’d dealt with it since he was a child, throwing up heavy shields to keep most thoughts out of his head but if he ate chocolate, it was like someone turned the volume up and he could pick up everything. 

But she was so sweet and she’d always been so nice to him so it couldn’t be that bad. The office was mostly empty, most of the others had already gone home. It wouldn’t be too bad, would it? He tried to smile but he thinks it might have been more of a grimace because her face falls. 

“I’ll try one.” He says quickly, reaching out. They were chocolate cupcakes with fluffy icing on them. At least it wasn’t fudge icing, he thought darkly as he took a small taste. It was delicious but he could feel it hit his system like a drug. But the pleased look in her eyes and the smile encouraged him to take a bigger bite. 

“It’s good.” He offered, taking one last bite. “It’s really rich, I’m sorry, I’m not fond of chocolate.” He put the other half on the napkin on his desk. 

“Thanks for trying it! I’ll make something more up your alley next time, promise.” She winked at him before walking off to offer the other cupcakes to their coworkers. He disposed of the rest of his and washed his hands thoroughly, not wanting to risk having any more chocolate on him. He was stupid, truly, doing this but there was something about her face, he couldn’t say no to her. 

It took another five minutes before he had to face the repercussions of his actions, his shields finally failing and his mind blown wide. He had an hour before he could go hide in his own house, he’d be fine. He forced himself to let the thoughts wash over him, become a background noise as he focused on his editing. This was due next week and he’d rather not have to take it home if he could avoid it. 

The thoughts were fairly standard and he had no problem tossing it to the side as if his coworkers were just talking loudly. Most of the thoughts were things they’d say out loud and the few invasive or strange thoughts he just let fall to the side. The mind was a weird place and he didn’t want to invade anyone’s privacy more than he already had. Until a thought curled through him. 

“Fuck, the way he licked his lips, I thought I was going to die.” It was dripping in lust and affection, the emotions burning into him with ease. Someone was looking at him, thinking that. They couldn’t be thinking about him, he’d never been popular around the office, he was too quiet, too stoic to be friendly with. But how hard the thought hit him made him think it had to be about him. 

“Jesus, that tongue. I’d love to see him bury it between my legs. God, I’d sit on his face any damn day. Those fucking eyes. I’d make him cry.” He didn’t look up, didn’t look around, couldn’t stop the redness of his face though as he tried to focus on his work. 

“I wonder how deep that blush goes? I’d kill to get him shirtless.” Images bombarded him, a rather good guess of how he might look shirtless, his arms over his head, and was that handcuffs on his wrist? Goodness, had he known someone had these strong of feelings, he’d never eaten that chocolate. He couldn’t look up, couldn’t see who was looking at him but he wanted to know. He couldn’t do anything about it, of course, no one knew he could read minds, but it might be nice to see who was admiring him. Maybe they’d imagine themselves in one of the pictures? Or imagine him crying out their name? The second thought shocked him, why would he think that? Why would he want to know? It wouldn’t lead anywhere. This wasn’t real, couldn’t be. Not for him.

“Not your style? I wouldn’t imagine you’d be into something more kinky. Is it too much then?” His head shot up at that, unable to maintain his nonchalance. He looked around the office, trying not to make a sound, someone had been talking to him. Actually talking to him in his mind. The only person looking at him though was her, she was back at her desk, eyes boring into him and he couldn’t stop the shiver that ran up his spine.

“You can hear me.” She sent to him, words drifting over his head. “I thought so.” She seemed pleased but there was nothing about this okay, he was panicking.

“Calm down.” Her voice was an order and it followed by a wave of emotions, calm and overwhelming or maybe they were underwhelming.

“You… you know?” He thought back, trying it for the first time and she winced.

“Not so hard, you don’t have to put that much into it. Here, let me show you.” He felt her as if she was standing in his space. He felt her, in his mind, and he could feel her showing him like someone would place their hands over the student’s to show them.

“How do you know this?” He tried again, the way she’d showed him and he watched her nod at him with a smile. 

“I’ve been doing this my whole life.” She said with a smile. “When they said you didn’t like chocolate, I had a pretty good answer as to why.”

“I’ve been doing it my whole life too.” He sent back, trying to find something, center himself on something. Had she really meant those things she’d sent earlier or was she just throwing things at him until something made him react?

“No, based on the size of those shields you had up, you’ve been avoiding it your whole life. It doesn’t feel like you’ve practiced at all, just blocked.” Those were words, actual words and he pushed back, colliding into his chair. She’d gotten up at some point and walked over to his desk. Now she had one hip resting there, arms crossed, and despite him being so much taller than her, broader than her, she stood over him and he felt dwarfed.

“ You aren’t wrong.” He finally said when he found his tongue. 

“You going to let me teach you?” She said, smile playing on her face.

“I’m not sure I know how to deny you.” He sent this time, not speaking the words and her lips spread, curling at the corners and he wasn’t sure if it was a smile or a smug manifestation. 

“Good. I’ve got lots of things I can show you.” Her words were light but she’d thrown a few of those images from earlier at him and he shook from it, at his desk, at his work, with someone he’d really just met in all fairness, throwing things into his mind. He’d never thought an off-handed cupcake would come to this.


End file.
